All Shall Fade
by Galasriniel
Summary: Charlotte falls into some form of hell in the Caribbean and has no choice but to tag along in the misadventures of Captain Jack Sparrow. All she wants to do is find a way home... and to get that sexy Commodore's attention... Norrington/OC Slight AU
1. A Pirate's Life For Me?

A/N: Okay, I realize that I should be typing up and posting my next chapter of "Skye's Guide" but Charlie just won't leave me alone. Blame her. Meh.

Anyways, I hope you like this. All Shall Fade is starting in CotBP instead of DMC just to make it longer, establish characters, relationships, and just to get another serious, long-haul project in the works.

**Disclaimer:** I'm neither a Disney executive nor Terry Rossio or Ted Elliot. I own only Charlie and any random side stories she tells. Sobbing…

Buckle your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen, as we shall soon be leaving Kansas. Enjoy your read.

………………….

_**All Shall Fade: Chapter One: A Pirate's Life For Me…? **_

Charlotte Daniels was going about her normal, early-morning routine one normal, cold, windy, rainy Monday morning. Just the fact that it was Monday made everything that much more depressing. Her alarm went off at six-oh-one. It was promptly put into snooze mode. It went off again fourteen minutes later.

This time, a bedraggled Charlotte dragged herself up. Her unruly honey-colored hair stuck up in several directions. She ran a hand over her pale face, trying to figure out if she was blind or if her eyes were closed. She decided to go with the latter. Grouchily, she untangled her legs from the blanket and padded into the bathroom. Knowing better than to look in the mirror (1), she headed straight for the toilet and the shower.

She took a long, warm shower, washed her shoulder length hair, shaved – the usual before hopping out and drying off. It was only then that she dared look in the mirror. She combed her hair, letting it air dry, while walking over to her closet to get dressed for the day.

Charlotte chose her favorite jeans, a deep purple tank top, a tan leather jacket, and her Converses. Her jewelry was minimal (earrings in all four piercings, a silver necklace, and two rings). She scarfed a Pop Tart for breakfast, brushed her teeth, did some light make-up, and was out the door after grabbing an umbrella and her bag.

Now, what you must understand is that Charlotte Daniels lives in Houston and teaches in Clear Lake. To get there, on a sunny day, took long enough. Now, since it was raining, it took longer. The freeways were flooding in some places and everyone was trying to find a detour or stupid enough to drive through one of the "puddles." The stupid ones got stuck and their cars promptly died.

Realizing she was never going to make it on time, Charlotte reached into her pocket and dialed the school's number on her cell phone.

"Hey, Kirsti? Yeah, this is Charlie Daniels, the choir teacher? …I'm stuck in traffic and the roads are flooding…. No, I'm still going to be there, just late…. Yes, a substitute is going to be _very_ necessary. I'm doing my best to be on time – Okay, thank you so much! Okay, okay… bye." She hung up and placed the phone back in her pocket. "God, I hate Mondays…" Charlie groaned.

The traffic hadn't moved forward at all during her conversation.

* * *

Sighing, Charlie blessed the two-thirty release time at the high school she taught at. Starbucks was sounding really good at the moment. High school kids always gave her a headache and a craving for chocolate.

On the drive there, the only noise from in the old Jeep was her "Jekyll and Hyde" soundtrack blaring out Linda Eder's fantastic voice.

She parked close to the small, red brick establishment and walked quickly inside. It was still raining, and she refused to get wetter than necessary.

"How can I help you today?" the cheerful barista, identified as only "Amanda," asked.

"You can make it stop raining and give me a venti hot chocolate," Charlie joked.

"I'm not sure about the first one, but I can help with the hot chocolate. That's 3.47, please." Charlie forked over a five. "What's your name?"

She told her and stuffed the change into her wallet. She took a seat in on of the cushy chairs away from all the college students and prattling businessmen, and glared out at the rain. "Oh, I wish I was someplace warm and currently rain-free…"

Her name was called and she got up to retrieve her beverage before running back to her car.

* * *

An hour later, she was back home, loaded down with groceries and her music bag, and fumbling with the keys to her apartment complex. Charlie wouldn't be able to unlock the door without putting everything down on the wet stoop. She was loath to do that as her grocery bags were paper because the bagger had been out of plastic. She wasn't in the mood to kick the head of lettuce down the hall to the elevator either.

Sighing, Charlotte set the bags in the driest place she could find (which wasn't really saying anything) and opened the door quickly.

Outside her apartment, she had the same predicament, but a dry floor, so it wasn't too bad. Once inside, Breaking Benjamin floated down to meet her ears as she set the bags on the faux-marble countertop.

"Home again, home again, jiggedy jig."

Charlie turned the TV on to one of the movie channels and grinned as the sound of swords clashing filled the small room. It was Errol Flynn as Robin Hood (2). She put the groceries away quickly, turned the oven on and got a pot pie ready.

After dinner and her movie were finished, Charlie really didn't feel like going to sleep. Through the window, she could see the rain had let up enough for a walk. So, she grabbed keys and her phone before she was out the door.

She went a couple of blocks away to a local park. She just walked the track since everything that could serve as a seat was soaking wet. After one lap, Charlie headed home. About halfway there, the heavens opened up again, complete with thunder and lightning.

Within the first few seconds, she was soaked to the skin and shivering violently.

"Is this your idea of a joke?" she called to God. "I probably look like a drowned cat."

Charlie walked another block and could see her building when lightning flashed in the sky. Thunder quickly followed. She picked her pace up and was right by a street lamp when a bolt of electricity struck it. Charlie screamed loudly from shock. Some of the electricity jumped to her body. The force of it caused her to fall, striking her head on the wet concrete.

The world went completely black.

* * *

Charlie woke flat on her back with someone lightly smacking her face. She didn't really want to open her eyes and see her mother's worried face and doctors and machines. She could feel something wet and cold dripping onto her exposed skin as well. That ruled out a hospital, unless she got stuck in a room with a leaky ceiling. '_I sincerely __**loathe**__ Mondays,_' Charlie thought, irritated beyond all measure.

"Come on, luv, wake up," a gravelly voice demanded. "Jus' open your eyes fer Jack."

Her eyes fluttered open, meeting deep, deep, deep, _deep_ brown ones. She lifted her head a bit and began coughing violently, expelling water from her lungs.

'_What the hell did I miss?'_ she thought.

"Good. You keep doin' that while I finish sommat up, savvy?"

Through the coughing and hacking, she watched the strangely dressed man swagger drunkenly up five steps and grab a sword.

"Now, as long as you're just hanging there, pay attention. The only rules that really matter are these: What a man _can_ do and what a man _can't_ do. For instance, you can accept that your father was a pirate and a good man or you can't. But pirate is in your blood, boy, so you'll have to square with that someday. Now, me, for example, I can let you drown but I can't bring this ship into Tortuga all by me onesy, savvy? So," he swung the younger man back onto the deck and held the sword out. "Can you sail under the command of a pirate, or can you not?"

Charlie's coughing had ceased somewhere in the middle of his speech.

The weapon hung between them, an uncanny peace offering and the younger man took it tentatively. "Tortuga?"

"Aye, Tortuga." He grinned wickedly.

She sneezed, drawing their attention. "Where am I? Why was water coming out of my mouth? Who are you? And why are you going to Tortuga, wherever that is?" Charlie demanded.

"Ah! I'd almost forgotten you, luv. You're on the _Interceptor_, pride of the British navy, floating in the middle of the Caribbean. You nearly drowned, and would have if not for my courageous rescue, after falling out of… somewhere. This Whelp is William Turner, and _I_ am _Captain_ Jack Sparrow. I trust you've heard of me." He posed after brushing a lock of black hair off his shoulder.

"Uh… no." '_I'm in the middle of the Caribbean with a nutcase!!' _her mind was screeching. '_And the "pride of the navy" bit is odd… He doesn't look like a naval officer. This loon's probably a pirate or something…'_

"Oh." He looked like a disappointed puppy. "We are going to Tortuga to gather a crew and supplies to man the ship so we can fight undead pirates and rescue his bonny lass." A grubby thumb was jerked towards William.

"Uh... huh. I see. Are you, like, a crazy person? (3)" she asked warily, rising unsteadily to her feet.

"Some would say that, yeah."

Charlie turned to William. "And you. Are you crazy too? Or are you just an unwilling participant in this… whatever?"

"I'm not crazy, but I came willingly. He wasn't exactly my first choice, but he's the only one who would help me."

"For a price, I assume?" she deadpanned.

"Naturally," William grinned.

"So… what's there to do on a boat?" she asked, shrugging out of her wet jacket and removing her shoes and socks. They squished whenever she walked.

"Ship, luv. She's a _ship_, not a boat. I don't know _how_ you could be so insulting…" Jack corrected.

"Sorry. What's there to do on a _ship_?"

"Ye could help the Captain reach his destination in one piece, for starters," the pirate replied immediately.

"…For someone who's never sailed a day in her life?"

Jack sighed while Will chuckled. "Two. I have two greenies. I'll be teaching the both o' ye what to do and what certain terms mean, savvy?"

"Savvy, Jack."

"By the by, luv, what's your name?"

"I was wondering when you'd get around to that, Jack," Will said. His brown eyes were twinkling with amusement.

"I'm Charlotte Daniels, but please, I beg of you, call me Charlie."

"Welcome to the crew Charlotte."

"Charlie!"

"That's what I said. The ship is looking pretty good right now. Go…cook something or something."

She gave Jack a **Look** before grabbing her belongings and padding below deck. Instead of cooking, she was going to explore a little bit. If she was going to be stuck on this floating piece of wood for the unforeseeable future, she may as well be familiar with its layout. Right?

A splinter decided to imbed itself in the uncalloused skin of her arch. She picked it out using her acrylic nails and wished she were in that hospital after all.

"I must be in Hell," she announced to the dust motes. "The lightning must have killed me and I sinned something bad and got sent to Hell."

* * *

# 1: Don't you just hate waking up and feeling like crap, and you just _know_ that you look worse than you feel? Charlie too.

#2: Errol Flynn as Robin Hood. It's a fantastic movie, and, if you like older swashbuckling films, this is one you should check out.

#3: "Are you, like, a crazy person?": It's one of my favorite lines from V for Vendetta. Yet another wonderful film. It's a great movie and the historical allusions are very tastefully done.

A/N: Slow, I know. If you've made it this far, I congratulate you. It _will_ get better, I promise on my honor as a writer… or something. You must be thinking, 'Why the devil is this in the humor category? It sucks.'

Again, it will be getting better. I mean, Jack Sparrow, Commodore James Norrington, undead pirates, and a smart-ass. How much better could it get? Not much, in my humble opinion.

There will be eventual romance, probably light undercurrents of Jack/OC. This will be, eventually, all-out Norrington/OC. And that's just 'cause I love him and don't think there are enough Norrington/OC stories out there. Of those that are, they're too short, poorly written, or finished. Or even slash. Ew.

For those of you who care, the next chapter will be up sometime this next week. I'm going reread it for the fourth time and fix anything I find wrong.

Luv ya luvvies!


	2. Do You Have to Let It Linger?

Okay, just so you know, I plan on posting these chapters one day at a time until it's completely finished. Which could take a while. I have a notebook _full_ of this story, or at least the part that takes place during DMC and part of AWE (what I found of the leaked script). I know that it's been changed quite a bit, but I like what I read. With a bit of editing and modifying of the dialogue, I think it's really good.

Right… **Disclaimer:** If I owned this, James Norrington and Jack Sparrow would be alternately chained in my closet and on my bed. Think that actually happens? I wish. Song titles aren't mine either!

Enjoy!

* * *

_**All Shall Fade: Chapter Two: Do You Have to Let It Linger? **_

"Do you have to let it linger?  
Do you have to, do you have to,  
Do you have to let it linger?" – The Cranberries, "Linger"

* * *

The next day when Charlie woke up around seven (which is sleeping in for a high school teacher), she reached for her pillow to snuggle closer to in a vain attempt to return to sleep. The thing she came into contact with was far from being anything even remotely resembling a pillow. And then Charlie realized she was swaying. Confused, she decided to open her eyes and find out.

The room was dark with no sunlight to be seen anywhere and no source of light – oh, wait. There was a single lantern swinging from one of the beams. '_But… my apartment doesn't have beams or lanterns. I also don't recall my apartment rocking back and forth. What did I drink last night?'_

Groaning, she sat up quickly, not feeling the tiniest bit ill. Glancing down, she saw a mouse. Charlie squeaked and started violently, causing her to tumble out of the hammock and onto the floor and frightening the mouse away.

Realization dawned and she immediately began to cry (not sob or wail, just cry) hysterically. Her antics had jerked Will out of his slumber and he turned his head to see her on the ground crying. Worried, he hurried over the older woman.

"Charlotte, are you alright?" he asked, genuine concern coloring his voice and dancing in his eyes. Will rubbed her back soothingly, trying to get her to breath.

"I-I… I thought it w-w-was just a really bad-d dream," she sobbed, abdomen hurting from the force of her sobs.

* * *

"Charlotte! Hurry up, luv. Tortuga awaits us!" Jack shouted, bouncing on the balls of his feet anxiously. "Women… Charlotte! Get out here, we don't have all night!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she called back, hopping on one foot, tying her shoes. "And don't call me Charlotte. It's bloody annoying."

"See? The lass picks up on slang faster than you, whelp," Jack pointed out triumphantly. He'd been attempting to get Will to curse or use pirate jargon ever since it was agreed to go to Tortuga.

Charlie had ended up using it almost instantly when another splinter had got stuck in her arch. The rest of her feet were calloused from years of dance, but her arches had somehow escaped that.

"Yes, well, I'm ready to leave faster than she is, so we're even," Will replied.

"Nah, you're just saying that to avoid admitting that your soul is too pure and untainted to use such language," she teased back, trying to break the awkwardness that followed her crying-jag that morning.

""Pure and untainted"?" he asked in disbelief, obviously getting her message. "I killed men in the attack on Port Royal!"

"It's hard to kill the undead, mate," Jack pointed out, leading them away from the docks and into the crowded, stinking streets of the pirate port.

Charlie latched herself to Will's arm after she received several drunken, lustful leers. "I don't really like this place," she told him, shouting to be heard over the music pouring out of bars, gunshots, shouts of drunkards, whores, and dogs barking.

"What? Why?! This place is one of the last free ports in the Caribbean! Every pirate around comes here at one point or another for company and bartering. More importantly, it is indeed a sad life that has never breathed the sweet, proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga, savvy? What do you think?" He stole a drunks cane and swung it around absently.

"It'll linger," Will said, attempting to be polite.

"I hate it already." Charlie was breathing as little as possible; the streets smelled of piss, alcohol, gunpowder, dog feces, piss, and sweat. Not the most pleasant of things to be subjected to.

Jack ignored her and said, leaning over so he could speak into Will's ear. "I tell ya, mate, if every town in the world were like this one, no man would ever feel unwanted."

A woman with flaming red hair, a faded red dress, heavy make up, and a scowl marched up to them.

"Scarlett!" Jack shouted, holding his arms out for a hug. He received a loud slap instead as the woman marched off. "Not sure I deserved that. Giselle!"

This time it was a pretty blonde who came over to the trio. "'Oo was she? And 'oo is she?" she asked, nodding to Charlie.

"What?" Jack was still reeling from Scarlett's welcome.

Giselle struck him just as hard.

Charlie laughed loudly at Jack's reddening face. "I think I like those two," she mused, still tittering.

"I may have deserved that," Jack said.

Will just shook his head. This was going to be a long night…

"Man-whore," Charlie said, just loud enough for Jack to hear. There was no reaction though. Either he didn't hear or didn't care to respond at the present time. It annoyed her.

In any case, Will got a kick out of it. He chortled softly and carried a lopsided grin until Jack thrust buckets at him and Charlie.

"Fill those up in the well over there," he ordered.

"Why us?" Charlie, ever the rabble-rouser, demanded to know.

"Because, luv, I'm your captain and I said so," was the cocky reply worthy of a kindergartener.

She stuck her tongue out at Jack and stalked off to the well Will was hauling his bucket out of.

"How heavy is it?"

"Not too bad, considering the weight of the water. Why do we have to do this?" he grunted, glaring at the back of Jack's head.

"Because he's our captain and said so," she mocked, tying the rope around the bucket and dropping it into the dark well. Charlie began pulling it up after a moment and grunted with the effort. She wanted to sing and dance when she realized it was almost out. Jack, however, had other plans and spoke directly in her ear, making her screech and loose her grip on the rope. The bucket was back at the bottom with a splash.

"Are you almost finished, luv?" he repeated, leaning one hip against the stones.

"_You asshole!_" She punched his arm, earning a wince. "I almost had it! The damn bucket was nearly out and you made me drop it! I hate you!" This time, Charlie kicked his shin. "'Not too bad' my lovely, white arse…"

"Why'd ye hafta kick me?!" Jack cried, ignoring everything else and bouncing on the uninjured leg.

"Because you made me drop the bucket!" she cried. "And now it's at the bottom… I have to pull it up again. You're not allowed to speak while I do this, _savvy_?"

Will stood a bit apart from them and shook his head in amusement and worry. This was wasting time! Elizabeth could be dead or hurt or maimed or raped by now, and all they could do was squabble. But… it was still pretty funny. Jack was getting verbally trounced by a girl… Or rather, a woman.

Finally, she was able to pull the bucket out of the thrice-damned well and Jack could speak again.

* * *

They approached the pigsty of the tavern Jack had led them to. He grabbed Charlie's bucket and tossed the contents on the man sleeping with the pigs.

Amusedly, Charlie watched as the drunk woke up immediately, shouting, "Curse ya fer breathing, ya slack-jawed idiot!" His vision seemed to clear and he said, "Mother's love! Jack! Ye should know better than ta wake a man when he's sleeping. 'S bad luck!"

"Oh goody. Superstitious sailor number one," Charlie muttered to Will.

"Ah, fortunately I know how to counter it. The man who did the waking buys the man who was sleeping a drink. The man who was sleeping drinks it while listening to a proposition from the man who did the waking," Jack was saying.

There was a pause, and the older man said, "Aye, that'll about do it."

Charlie was positive the only word he'd heard was 'drink.' She'd bet her bottom dollar on it.

Will tossed his bucket of water at the man as soon as he was on his feet.

"Blast! I'm already awake!" the mutton chop man shouted, blinking water out of his eyes.

"That was for the smell."

Jack looked at Will funny and Charlie laughed loudly.

"Gibbs, William Turner. Charlotte, Gibbs," Jack said quickly. "Alright! Into the bar you lot, come on, come on. We don' have all night!"

"Yes mother," Charlie simpered.

Grinning, Jack said, "Get on with ye."

Charlie followed Will into the pub and stopped dead in her tracks. The place was loud, filled to the brim with drunks, gamblers, whores, and more drunks. She saw one man relieving himself behind the stairs and jumped when the sound of glass breaking reached her ears.

Jack, who'd come in after her, put a hand on her shoulder and looked around for the source of her discomfort. Not noticing anything out of the ordinary, he asked what was wrong.

"I don't like this place," was the reply.

"Just stick wif ol' Jack and ye'll be perfectly fine." He swaggered off to the bar as Gibbs disappeared to find a table with Will in tow. She rushed after the pirate captain. He was leaning on the bar, waiting for his pint and a half to be delivered and grinned when he saw her. "I knew ye'd warm up to me, luv."

"Who said anything about warming up to you? I'm only here because I don't feel like being groped." A stray hand grabbed her butt. "I spoke too soon. I hate this place."

Jack took the mugs from the wench and made his way towards Gibbs, saying to her, "That's only because you haven't given it a chance yet."

"What if I don't _want_ to give it a chance?" she muttered petulantly.

Jack didn't react to her show of childishness. When Charlie was standing shoulder to shoulder with Will, he turned back and warned, "Keep a sharp eye," while glancing at the other patrons of the tavern warily.

"He's an interesting character," Charlie commented acerbically.

"And my feeling is that he shall only become more interesting as time passes."

"Oh, now I feel _really_ safe."

Will turned his warm eyes to her sharp hazel ones. "Why don't you trust us?"

"You I trust. Kind of. But Jack?" She scoffed. "I trust him as far as I can throw him. Don't say you feel differently, cause then I'd know you're lying."

"How?"

"I work… _worked_ with teenagers. It's a skill. What year would this be, by the way?" Naturally, the query went unanswered.

"…All I need is a crew," they heard Jack telling Gibbs. Immediately, two pairs of ears perked up. They'd never get a straight answer out of the kooky captain, so they felt no guilt in eavesdropping on the "private" chat. Besides, information is power, right?

"From what I hear tell of Captain Barbossa, he's not a man to suffer fools, nor strike a bargain with one."

A whore ran into Will, cackling drunkenly, and her patron for the night dragged her off, but not before mentally undressing Charlie. The pair wrinkled their noses in unison and turned their attention back to the pirates' discussion.

"…give up his ship to you?"

"Let's just say it's a matter of leverage."

Charlie craned her neck in time to see Jack jerking his head towards the place she and Will were standing. Realization dawned upon her.

"The kid?"

"That is the child of Bootstrap Bill Turner. His _on'y_ child, savvy?"

"Is he now? Leverage says you, I feel a change in the winds says I. I'll find us a crew. There's bound to be some sailors on this rock crazy as you," Gibbs promised.

"One can only hope. Take what you can!"

"Give nothing back!"

Their mugs clinked as they toasted the scheme.

Charlie turned back to Will and knew he'd heard from his stony expression. His lips were thin and his eyes hard and unseeing. His broad shoulders were tense and rage practically steamed out of his ears.

Cautiously, she rubbed his back as they waited for the other two men to reappear.

"Well, Captain, I be off to find sailors. Pier number seven at noon?"

"Aye, that'll do it."

Gibbs nodded and hurried out of the tavern.

"Let's eat, shall we?" Jack said cheerfully. Charlie forced a smile and followed him as Will angrily followed her. "You two go grab us a table and I'll bring the victuals, yes?"

"I don't want any alcohol, Jack," Charlie told him sternly, wiping sweat from her upper lip. The building was packed full of lively bodies and air conditioning hadn't been invented yet. '_I truly am in Hell.'_

He gave her an over-exaggerated look of astonishment. "What?!"

"I do not want any alcohol."

"No, not that, luv. I'm amazed that ye have so li'l faith in me to think that _I_ would attempt to get a lady piss drunk and into my bed."

"Uh-huh. None, okay?"

His eyebrows furrowed adorably at the strange word. "Savvy?"

"Yeah, basically."

"O…kay…"

Charlie grinned. '_I'm corrupting him! He used modern slang! _I _am corrupting Captain Jack Sparrow.'_ She giggled to herself as she dodged drunks to the table that Will chose in a dark, secluded corner.

"Charlie, you're – dare I say it? – blushing! Are you falling Jack's 'charm' as well?"

"What? No! It's really hot in here." She slid her hair tie off her slim wrist and threw her heavy curls into a ponytail. At Will's disbelieving look, she reiterated, "_Really._"

"Dinner is served!" Jack warbled, purposely (or was it?) off-key.

Charlie grimaced and took a bowl of soup from the serving girl who'd followed him. At least the food looked and smelled edible. The meat looked like chicken, another plus.

Two mugs of ale sat on the table and then the wench was gone.

"Wait… what about my drink?" Charlie sighed.

"Darling, we're in a pub. And not just any pub, a pub in Tortuga. They've naught but alcohol here," Jack explained patiently.

"Don't treat me like a baby, Jack. They don't have drinkable water?"

"Nope."

"This is the pits!"

"Try the soup," Will intoned.

"Will it kill me?"

"No."

"Well, I wouldn't be so sure of that…" Jack muttered under his breathe.

* * *

Okay, how was that?

The whole reason I'm making this fic longer is to give the characters more depth and development time. I want the relationships to be understandable and for _you_ to realize that Charlie is anything but a Mary-Sue. She honestly has to work at her people skills and alter everything she knows to fit the time period and still manage to retain what makes her… Charlie.

I want you to realize that the beginning is rocky in her friendship with Jack. Can she trust him farther than she can throw him, or not? For those of you who read the first four chapters of the DMC fic, I want you to have more of a foundation for Charlie and Norrington's relationship and tentative romance (yes, this whole thing is Norrie/OC, with a little Jack/OC tossed in). I want Charlie to be believable and loveable. I want you to comprehend all the jokes and the easiness and the tension in this story.

I hope that clears a little bit of confusion up, if you were wondering why I deleted All Shall Fade in the first place.

The whole thing just didn't feel right to me. So, I'm trying to fix it.

Anyways, _**reviews are more than welcome as are any suggestions, comments, CONSTRUCTIVE criticisms, etc.**_

If you want the soundtrack I have playing in my head while I write this, go buy the DMC movie soundtrack. It's marvelous. Especially "Davy Jones' Lullaby," or, Track Number Three.


	3. Why, God? Why?

Bonjour, ma amis. Welcome to yet another chapter of my baby. I've nothing important to say, other than… I'M OFFICIALLY A SENIOR!!!!!!!!!! I passed all my classes and even my AP tests and I happen to be thrilled. Oh, and I've just finished a run of a professional-level, unpaid production of "Oklahoma!" I also auditioned at one of the premiere dance schools around my home, and feel pretty confident that I did well. WOOO!

**Disclaimer:** If I actually were all grown-up and had gazillions of dollars, I'd be a very happy camper. But, I'm not and I don't, so that refutes the happy-camperishness. Kudos though on making the third movie so AMAZING! I don't own lyrics or music either.

Now, on to what you're really here for, Chapter Three!

* * *

**Chapter Three:**** Why, God? Why? **

"Hey look I mean you no offense  
But why does nothing here make sense?  
Why God? Show your hand  
Why can't one guy understand?"** - "Miss Saigon"  
**

* * *

Charlie had managed to find her way back to the _Interceptor_ in one piece, miraculously. By yet another miracle, Jack Sparrow had not found a way to bed her, regardless of her low tolerance for alcohol and the small amount she'd consumed. Jack had, however, bestowed a cabin upon her, claiming he didn't want the men of the crew to "get frisky wif ye, luv."

Needless to say, Charlie was very thankful for Jack's generous gift. Now, if she had another breakdown, it would be completely private and no one would feel pity for her or think she'd gone mental.

She'd kicked the rough sheets off at some point in the night and slept, unaffected by the chill air. She lay on her stomach, limbs askew and hair tangled around her face. Her Converse were still on her feet and they twitched every so often.

The only sounds were the lull of the waves, Charlie's steady breathing, and the occasional gull cry.

Hurried footsteps pounded down the stairs and raced through the narrow corridor to Charlie's room. A pause and then… _**BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG**_.

The woman awoke with a loud snort.

The banging stopped only to be replaced with Jack's cheerful voice. "Rise and shine, darlin'!"

Charlie rolled to her feet yawning and rubbing her eyes. Once the door was open, she demanded, "What the hell do you want, Jack?"

"It's time to meet our new crew, luv," he said condescendingly. "Don't ye want come wif us?"

"Yeah…" she yawned. In all actuality, she really did want to meet the crew. She wanted to see if there would be any more encounters with Jack's scorned lovers he'd be touchy about. Lordy, Charlie loved giving him hell. "Before we leave, can I stop somewhere and buy a hairbrush?"

Jack took a step back, watching her suspiciously. "Why'd ye want one o' those?"

"To bash fish heads with," was the sarcastic response.

He shot her another wary look. "Really? Charlie, ye might wan' ta reconsider. One, tha's just plain cruel. Two, aren't ya s'pposed ta brush yer hair wif a hairbrush?"

Charlie stepped into the tight hallway, praying the man was being purposely dense. "Jack, _luv_, I was being sarcastic. It's a rhetorical literary device that everyone uses at one point or another, okay?"

"Whatever." He began shooing her down the hall and up on deck. "We need to make haste, dearest. Pirates are a wishy-washy lot and we don't want to be left crewless, do we? Come, come!"

Will was waiting on deck for the other two. His dark eyes were even darker with thought. His brow was furrowed and he looked like he wouldn't notice if the rail he was leaning on broke beneath his weight.

Finally, she became fed up with his brooding and prodded him in the side with a sharp, acrylic nail. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours, dearest William?"

"Nothing," he said crisply, becoming animate again.

"Bullshit," Charlie muttered under her breathe. She had to jog to catch up with his stride across the deck.

Unfortunately, the place they were to meet Gibbs was about a mile and a half away from their current mooring and the waters were still. The noon sun pounded down on them and there wasn't the slightest trace of wind to relieve some of the heat. Charlie began praying for rain or wind, something – anything! – to cool this Hell down.

A breeze made an appearance as they weighed anchor and rowed to the dock Gibbs had the sailors waiting on.

"Afternoon," Gibbs said as the three in the small boat pulled themselves up. "Feast yer eyes, Captain! All them, faithful hands b'fore the mast, every man worth 'is salt, and crazy to boot."

"_This_ is your able-bodied crew?" Will asked skeptically.

Jack pretended not to have heard Will's question, rhetorical as it had been, and instead continued down the line of scallywags. He inspected each of them critically, eyeing the midget with particular distaste.

"I think he's ignoring you," Charlie stage-whispered to the younger man.

Jack ignored her as well, some of the men stifled chuckles, and Gibbs glared in exasperation. Jack paused in front of one elderly sailor with a parrot.

"You, sailor!" he barked.

"Cotton, sir," Gibbs supplied.

"Mr. Cotton? Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death?" Jack said it all so rapidly that Charlie's head spun. Cotton glanced at Gibbs, questioningly. "Mr. Cotton! Answer, man!"

"He's a mute, sir. Poor devil had his tongue cut out." Mr. Cotton decided to add a show to go with the tell. Jack stuck his own intact tongue out in revulsion. "…he trained the parrot to talk for him. No one's yet figured out how."

"Through a logical process to which Jack Sparrow may only dream of?" Charlie supplied innocently, batting her lashes when the two head pirates frowned.

Jack began to move on, but decided to test the bird. "Mr. Cotton's… parrot. Same question."

"Wind in the sails! Wind in the sails!" the bird squawked.

"Mostly we figure that means 'yes.'" They moved down the line again.

"Of course it does," Jack and Charlie chorused. They both started and stared at one another for a moment before Charlotte exclaimed, "Get off my brainwaves!"

Tired of this waste of time, Will stormed to the captain and hissed, "Well, you've proved they're mad!"

'_Subtle hint to get a move on? Oh yeah. Definitely. How romantic! He wants to rush in, all haste necessary, to save his childhood sweetheart! Cute.'_ She sighed softly.

Some sailor at the end of the line had spoken out to Jack, and, with a definite hunch as to who it was, he moved cautiously closer. Jack pulled the flimsy felt hat off the person's head to reveal… a striking woman. She looked to be half-Jamaican and half-black. She was, simply, stunning.

"Anamaria."

She smacked him harshly across the face.

Mockingly, Will said, "I suppose you didn't deserve that one either."

"No, that one I deserved."

"You stole my boat!"

Turning back towards the seething female, Jack began weaseling his way out. "Actually-" She slapped him again. "- borrowed. Borrowed without permission, but with every intention of bringing it back to you."

"But. You. _Didn't_!" Anamaria shouted.

"You'll get another one!" Jack promised, his voice going up about an octave. Charlie was in awe of Anamaria's ability to cow Jack into submissiveness.

She pointed her finger in his face threateningly. "I _will_."

"A better one," Will told Jack.

Jack repeated the words. Charlie watched in amusement, thinking that she liked this girl and was determined to befriend her, or at least become co-conspirators while on this voyage.

"That one." Will pointed to the _Interceptor_.

"What one?" Jack asked, looking to see what they'd be commandeering next. "That one?!" Fury made his voice drop deeper and become rougher than was natural. "Aye! _That _one! What say you?" He used the same gravelly tone for the benefit of the onlookers.

"Aye!" chorused everyone before they moved to fill the rowboats.

The bird squawked something, instilling that much more eagerness in the men and women.

"No, no, no, no, no, its frightful bad luck to bring a woman aboard, sir," Gibbs rushed over to Jack spouting this nonsense.

Charlie crossed her arms and 'hmphed' disdainfully. She and Will headed towards a boat to row to ship in, laughing and joking about the motley crew Gibbs had assembled for Jack. "I think he's the only person on this earth who'd consent to have slightly unstable people as his subordinates. Not that I mind, of course."

"So long as it gets us to Elizabeth faster, I could care less if the crew consisted of a sea-life encrusted menagerie," was the heartfelt reply.

"It's nice to see a guy so dedicated to one girl's safety. It's nice to know that guys like you _do_ exist," Charlie said, thinking back to some of her more… unsavory relationships.

"What do you -?" the young man started.

Jack and Gibbs chose that moment to join them.

* * *

That evening, a storm broke over the part of the ocean their "borrowed" ship happened to be in. Charlie, for her part, stayed out of the way, correctly guessing that she'd be more of a hindrance than a help on-deck. She stayed in the cabin she and Anamaria were to share instead, gripping the bed sheets tightly between her fingers and praying for the waters to calm, and _soon._ She didn't like the thought of white-knuckling it for the rest of the trip - to wherever they were heading - too much. 

The parrot had chosen to keep her company as his owner realized she was the only one not running around like a headless chicken. So, she talked to the bird and he learned some… more futuristic expletive phrases and that he liked her hair. It was shiny and fun to groom with his beak (1). The parrot stayed perched on Charlie's shoulder for the next few hours until the sea calmed enough to give the pirates a much needed respite.

Well, at least until the real adventure began.

And then, in the middle of it all – the storm, the white-knuckling, and the bird grooming her hair – Charlie realized that she never got that hairbrush she'd asked _so_ nicely for. "Dammit!"

* * *

#1: I've given Charlie my hair color, type, and texture. Every domesticated bird I've ever met has had a thing for my hair, parrots included. I may only see them at the zoo, but there's always at least one person walking around with reptiles and reptile skulls or pushing a cart laden with birds in different cages. They always have a parrot on their shoulder, and when I hold it, the bird always goes to run it's beak through my hair. I don't know what it is…

Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed the story of Charlie and her misadventures so far. Next installment is when the _real_ fun begins.

Until then! Oh, and Norrington should be in the next installment!


	4. Cinderella

Thank you for the reviews. All I can say is that I'm a shamefully shameless review-whore and more of you are reading than reviewing. It hurts, let me tell you. It cuts deep. I'm just kidding. More feedback wouldn't hurt my feelings, though.

I'm not harping – just stating a fact.

Okay, inspiration for this comes in bursts at random places of the trilogy. So I have the escape from DJ's crew and passing the heart to Beckett written, and then about a million other things, including an AU sequel idea.

I'm incredibly sorry for the delay!!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any cannon material or song lyrics. Just so you know, I hate The Cheetah Girls. If I owned anything PotC it would be the three yummy men (James, Jack, and Will) and they'd be tied to my bedposts and my closet. (I'm licking my lips right now.)

Okay, here's chapter four! YAAY!

* * *

_**Chapter Four: Cinderella**_

"I don't wanna be like Cinderella,  
Sitting in a dark, cold, dusty cellar,  
Waiting for somebody to come and set me free.  
I don't wanna be like Snow White waiting  
For a handsome prince to come and save me  
Oh, no, will survive,  
Unless somebody's on my side.  
Don't wanna be  
No, no, no one else.  
I'd rather rescue myself." – The Cheetah Girls "Cinderella"

* * *

So the waters finally calmed and Charlie was brave enough to reappear on deck. She had Cotton's parrot perched on her shoulder, but as soon as they hit open air, he'd flown off to sit on a random support beam thingy. It started croaking, "Dead men tell no tales" over and over and over and over and over… The mist rolling off the island they'd reached blanketed the ocean and muffled speech. The bird's croaking seemed rather eerie in such conditions.

The crew was lined up at the railing, staring at the ship wrecks scattered and strewn throughout the water like a young child's toys. Charlie edged in by Will and started with fright when she saw a hammerhead shark cut through the water by a broken mast.

Jack was up at the wheel, glancing at his compass and making minor adjustments to their course, seemingly unaffected.

"Puts a chill in the bones how many honest sailors have been claimed by this passage," Gibbs said to Will and Charlie. Upon seeing her, he quickly crossed himself.

Charlie rolled her eyes. '_Superstitious old coot._'

Will's attention turned to Jack. Cotton was standing behind Jack's right shoulder and looking at the compass. Jack's face twitched before the compass was snapped shut. "How is it that Jack came by that compass?"

"Not a lot's known about Jack Sparrow before he showed up in Tortuga with a mind to go after the treasure of Isla de Muerta. That was before I met him, back when he was captain of the _Black Pearl._" Gibbs realized he'd said too much, and it showed in his body language.

"What?! I though Barbossa –?" Charlie demanded right as Will said, "What? He failed to mention that."

Seeing no harm in going further, Gibbs said, "Well, he plays things closer to the vest now. And a hard-learned lesson it was. See three days out on the venture the first mate comes to him and says everything's an equal share. That should mean the location of the treasure, too, so Jack gives up the bearings. That night there was a mutiny. They marooned Jack on an island and left him to die but not before he'd gone mad with the heat."

"Ah," Will said. "So _that's_ the reason for all the –" He did a bad, but still amusing, imitation of Jack.

Charlie laughed freely at her friend. "You're such a loser." Affection colored her voice.

Gibbs spared her a glance and proceeded to act like she didn't just speak. "Reason's got nothing to do with it. Now Will, when a man is marooned he is a given a pistol with a single shot; one shot. Well it won't do much good hunting or to be rescued. But after three weeks of a starvin' belly and thirst, that pistol will start to look _real_ friendly." Here he donned a maniacal grin and made a gun out of his fingers and held them to his head. "But Jack, he escaped the island, and he still has that one shot. Oh, but he won't use it, though, save for one man. His mutinous first mate."

"Barbossa," the two young people chorused.

"Aye."

"How, exactly, did Jack escape?" Charlie asked, hoping she didn't sound too eager. She wouldn't put it past Gibbs to cut the story off because her curiosity was peaked. And all because she was a woman on a ship.

"Well, I'll tell ye. He waded out into the shallows and there he waited three days and three nights till all manner of sea creatures came and acclimated to his presence. And on the fourth morning, he roped himself a couple of sea turtles, lashed 'em together and made a raft." His voice rose with the climax of the story.

'_That's it! His credibility's dashed. Gibbs is officially nuts in my books,'_ Charlie thought.

"He roped a couple of sea turtles?" Will eyed the older man with incredulity while stroking his chin. Charlie was glad he wasn't so gullible as to believe Gibbs' tale.

"Aye, sea turtles."

Deciding to use what could've made her a great lawyer, Charlie asked, "What did he use as rope?"

The older man started to answer but stopped short when the answer didn't come. Then he looked up and behind the two. They turned at saw Jack. "Human hair," he replied smoothly. Gibbs looked triumphant. "From my back."

Charlie leapt up and swatted his arm. "Jack! That's disgusting!" she exclaimed.

"It's a pirate's life, luv. Let go the anchor!" he ordered the crew while sending the woman a bone-melting grin. "Young Mr. Turner, Ms. Daniels, and I are to go ashore."

"Captain! What if the worst should happen?" Gibbs asked.

"Keep to the Code."

"Aye, the Code."

Charlie followed Jack to the rowboat, protesting the 'going to shore' order. "I'd much rather stay here, really. Please, Jack!"

"Captain, luv. _Captain_. Why don't you want to go wif me and the whelp?" He seemed puzzled. Why would a woman refuse more time in his company? He was_Captain Jack Sparrow_ for Christ's sake! This was one strange bird.

"Because there are no _too_ horrible, unfriendly pirates here to rip me to shreds," was the matter-of-fact response.

He nodded absently as the boat was lowered to the water. "I see yer logic, luv. Lower the boat, gents!"

A chorus of "lower the boat" rang in the still air and just moments later, Jack and Will were rowing away to, what Charlie believed to be, an imminent demise. She paused, saying a quick prayer and then shrugged her somber mood off. "Hey, Anamaria! How about you and I have a quick discussion?"

"About?" the gorgeous black woman asked, looking skeptical.

"Who else but Jack Sparrow? I need some dirt on the guy, you see…" The two walked below deck talking cheerfully, having finally found a companion on the ship.

* * *

About an hour later, Will returned with a soggy Elizabeth Swann in tow. As they clambered aboard, Elizabeth caught sight of the crew, all of them doing their best to be intimidating.

"Not more pirates," the girl groaned.

"Welcome aboard, Miss Elizabeth," Gibbs said, stepping forward.

"Mister Gibbs?!"

'_Don't sound so shocked, chickpea,'_ Charlie thought caustically as Will climbed up behind his ladylove.

"Hey, boy, where be Jack?"

"Jack? Jack Sparrow?"

'_Again with the surprised face!'_

"He fell behind," was the simple answer as Will lead Elizabeth below deck protectively, almost possessively. Charlie envied that – not the people involved, but the emotions and the tiniest of actions that gave one away to onlookers.

Gibbs gave himself a moment to recover before putting on the hardy pirate front. "Keep to the code," he barked, clapping Charlie on the shoulder as the crew rushed around to get the ship moving again.

'_Clearly this experience has shaken him to the point where touching an "bad luck bringer" isn't so bad. Huh.'_

* * *

(After the grand sea-battle in which the crew of the _Interceptor_ gets captured and the females molested.)

"If any of you even so much _thinks_ the word 'parley,' I'll have your guts for garters," a short, fat pirate threatened as he and his companion tied the crew of the_Interceptor_ to the mast, pointing his pistol at them the whole time.

"Can you even _spell_ 'parley'?" Charlie asked. Everyone paused for a moment and stared at her. "What? It's just a question," she said defensively.

"I can't believe you just asked a person who can't die if they can spell," Elizabeth muttered.

"It's a simple question, and I really want to know!" Charlie murmured back.

At that moment the _Interceptor_blew up, a magnificent pyrotechnic display. "Will!" Elizabeth ducked out from under ropes and attacked Barbossa with her fists. "You've got to stop it! Stop it!"

Charlie rolled her eyes.

"Welcome back, Miss. You took advantage of our hospitality last time. It holds fair now that you return the favor," Barbossa replied smarmily, catching both her thin wrists in one hand. Using those as leverage, he shoved Elizabeth to the lustful men drooling over the girl like dogs over meat.

Will chose that moment to make his grand entrance, leaping up on the railing, the sun glinting off of his wet, fit, tan body. "Barbossa."

"Will," Elizabeth breathed as the hands stopped groping her.

"She goes free," Will demanded, pointing the pistol at Barbossa.

"What's in yer head, boy?" The pirate captain sounded thoroughly annoyed.

"Nothing," Charlie snapped, winking at Will. "He's to pretty to have much going on up there." Barbossa threw a surprised glance her way, his mouth quirking upwards at one corner.

"She goes free," Will repeated, gesturing at Lizzie dearest.

"You've only got one shot, and we can't die."

"Don't do anything stupid," Jack implored Will.

Charlie snorted loudly. "Ha! This coming from you?"

"You wound me, luv."

Barbossa steadfastly ignored the two adults bickering like children behind him.

"You can't, I can." Will cocked the gun under his chin, bluffing like mad.

"Like that," Jack said despondently.

"Who_are_ you?" Barbossa asked, wondering why he should care if this little whelp could die or not.

"No one! He's no one. A distant cousin of my aunt's nephew twice removed. Lovely singing voice, though: eunuch," Jack said, trying desperately to maintain his trump card and making funny faces to boot.

"My name is Will Turner. I'm the son of Bootstrap Bill Turner. His blood runs in my veins."

"Thus, you being his son," Charlie muttered, having a mock-epiphany.

"'E's the spittin' image of ol' Bootstrap Bill, come back to 'aunt us!" the fat, somewhat bald one's sidekick exclaimed.

"On my word, do as I say, or I'll pull this trigger and be lost to Davy Jones' locker," Will insisted.

'_Dumbass,_' Charlie thought, shaking her head at the boy's foolhardiness.

"Name yer terms, Mr. Turner," Barbossa acquiesced.

"Elizabeth goes free."

"Yes, we know that one." Charlie chortled a bit as did a few others. "Anything else?"

Jack pointed as subtly as possible to himself. "The crew! The crew are not to be harmed."

"Agreed."

Moments later, Jack and Elizabeth were being hauled over to a long piece of wood that resembled a diving board.

"Go on, poppet, go! Walk the plank!" Pintel (as Charlie had somehow learned) urged Elizabeth.

Will charged forward. "Barbossa, you lying bastard! You said she'd go free!"

Barbossa whipped around, insulted immensely. "Don't dare impugn me honor, boy. I agreed she'd go free. It's you who failed to specify when and where."

"Ooh, I love a good loophole," Charlie said to anyone listening while Will was being gagged.

"It does seem a shame to lose somethin' so fine, don't it, lads? So, I'll be havin' that dress back before ye go."

Elizabeth stripped the hideous purple thing off and tossed it to Barbossa, snapping, "It goes with your black heart."

"Ooh, it's still warm!" he said, pressing it to his face.

"Okay, gross." Charlie wrinkled her nose delicately.

Some random pirate urged her to 'get off then.' Bo'sun decided that Elizabeth was taking too long, so she needed his help to fall into the ocean below.

And then it was Jack's turn.

"I really had rather hoped we were past all this," he said quickly, desperately.

"Jack… Jack. Did you not notice? That be the same island we made ye gov'nor of on our last trip."

Jack sneaks a peek. "I had noticed." He seemed cowed, like a little boy.

"Perhaps ye'll be able to conjure up another miraculous escape, but I doubt it." A sword was produced and brandished at Jack. "Off you go."

"That's not very nice, is it, Barbie?" Charlie had decided that he needed a nickname. Juvenile, yes. But the reaction was well worth it.

"Last time, you left me a pistol with one shot."

'_Why is he delaying the inevitable?'_

"By the powers, ye're right. Where be Jack's pistol? Bring it forward." Jack's effects were passed to Barbossa.

"Seeing as there's two of us, a gentleman would give us two pistols."

"It'll be one pistol as before, and you can be the gentleman and shoot the lady and starve to death yerself." The bundle was tossed overboard and Jack followed just moments later.

"That's really not very nice, Barbie. A _real_ adult would've tried to work all the differences out in a civilized manner." Charlie knew that any scenario like that would never happen with two men like Jack and Barbossa, but she was going to annoy the "bad guy" anyways. God knows she'd learned from the best: teenagers.

"While we're still anchored, ye can join Jack and the Miss as well."

Bo'sun literally tossed Charlie over the side of the ship on his captain's orders.

* * *

Charlie trudged ashore about forty feet behind Jack. She hated swimming, especially in waters of untold depths. Having just dealt with this crippling phobia, she was in no physical or emotional state to follow the other two into the forest. So, instead, she camped under the abundant shade of a huge palm tree.

"Charlie, luv, ye comin?" Jack called.

"No. I can't move." She was too busy trying to calm her racing heart and overactive imagination, not to mention the involuntary shudders that raced up her spine.

"Suit yerself."

She merely nodded, letting sleep claim her for a couple of hours.

* * *

A rough hand shook the young woman awake. Before her eyes were even open, a bottle of… something was being shoved into her hands and the acrid smell of smoke greeted her nostrils.

"Wake up and enjoy the party, luv," Jack said gleefully.

"No." She took the alcohol and sat up anyway as Jack sashayed off to drunkenly sing and dance with Elizabeth around their bonfire. "Huh, reminds me of college." Charlie uncorked the bottle and drank heartily. The rum burned on the way down, but it felt so good…

What seemed like moments later, Jack was knocked into an alcohol-induced slumber and Lizzie was suddenly surprisingly sober. "Charlotte, come help me create a smoke signal."

"Okay, I'm up for that. Anything to get off this horrid place."

The two worked diligently throughout the night and well into the morning to get the fire big enough and to get all of the rum from its hiding place on the other side of the island.

Jack awoke to the smell of smoke with a distinctly… _rummy_ scent. His eyes snapped open and he was on his feet in milliseconds crying out, "No! Not good! Stop! Not good! What are you doing? You burned all the food, the shade! The rum!"

"Yes, the rum is gone," Charlie replied, as if she were speaking to a five-year-old.

"Why is the rum gone?" He gestured emphatically.

"One, because it is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable men into complete scoundrels. Two, that signal is over a thousand feet high. The entire Royal Navy is out looking for me. Do you really think that there is even the _slightest_ chance that they won't see it?" Elizabeth ranted at the pirate, using infallible logic to get through his thick skull and hangover.

"But why is the rum gone?"

Charlie broke into raucous laughter, plopping to sit in the sand, at the kicked puppy look and desperation in Jack's voice, not to mention his word choice. She rolled the legs of her jeans up past her knees to let her freakishly pale legs get some sun.

Elizabeth joined Charlie in the sand, dusting her hands off and saying, "Just wait, Captain Sparrow. You give it one hour, maybe two, keep a weather eye out and then you will see white sails on that horizon."

Jack clumsily pulled his pistol out, enraged beyond belief, and aimed at Elizabeth's head. He thought better of it though, and stalked off, mocking the young woman's words in a high pitched voice that was most entertaining.

"I liked the part when his head looked like it was going to pop off best," Charlie joked.

Elizabeth just looked at her strangely. "What?"

"It was a joke," Charlie sighed. "A really bad joke that no one but me gets. How sad and lonely."

Elizabeth just nodded, pretending to understand what the older woman was talking about.

* * *

About two hours later, the fire (which required their constant attention) had attracted a large ship with white sails. It had anchored a ways out and a longboat was rowing towards Jack's island. The two women were thrilled.

"Charlotte, go fetch Jack. We need to leave as soon as possible if there's any hope of saving Will. Go!" Elizabeth cried giddily.

"Ugh, why me?"

"Because Jack likes you better. Hurry!"

"I don't think he likes me so much right now." She rolled her pant legs down anyway and went off in search of Jack. Charlie wasn't too happy about being ordered around, but she realized that if she didn't go, Jack would probably stash himself away on the island and never be heard from again.

Halfway down the beach, Charlie caught sight of an angry, hung-over Jack Sparrow. Not even bothering to be polite, she called loudly, "Navy men are here to take us to the bo – ship."

Wincing, he replied, "Leave me here ta rot 'way from the RN, luv. And _sh!_" The pirate stalked past the tiny blonde woman.

"If I do that, how will you ever get the _Pearl_ back?" She jogged to be even with him, matching his stride.

Wincing once more, not from the volume, but from the overwhelming logic being forced upon his person while in such a state, Jack acquiesced. "I see yer point, darlin', and ye make yer case excellently. I'm not leavin' wivout my effects."

They rejoined Lizzie and pulled shoes (and, in Charlie's case, socks and jacket) on before the RN men escorted the trio to the boat. The fit was tight, but they managed much to Charlie's relief. She was loath to sit on the lap of some random sailor after a who-knows-how-long stint at sea.

And then came the rope ladder to exit the small craft. The women insisted that the men go first so that Lizzie's goods wouldn't be ogled beneath her skirt. The sailors tied the boat off and monkeyed up the ladder with Jack following reluctantly. Charlie quickly followed, leaving Elizabeth for last.

When she reached the top rung, someone grabbed her by the upper arm and waist to haul her on board. Charlie found herself in close proximity to a very attractive man with stunning eyes, a hard body, and a wig.

He looked shocked when her face and attire registered in his mind, before abandoning her to help Lizzie in the same manner, but holding her tenderly and checking for any signs of harm.

Jealously flared only to be stamped viciously out. This man clearly cared for the younger woman, probably the prospective fiancé that they'd spoken of while fueling the fire. Lizzie had failed to mention how handsome he was.

Needless to say, she couldn't take her mind off of him.

"Turn the ship back to Port Royal," the gorgeous one ordered while reluctantly releasing Lizzie to go about his duties.

"But we've got to save Will!" the girl adamantly protested.

"No. You're safe now. We will return to Port Royal immediately, not go gallivanting after pirates!" a stout man in a ridiculously large wig said with an air of finality.

'_This must be Lizzie's dad_,' Charlie thought.

"Then we condemn him to death."

"The boy's fate is regrettable, but, then, so was his decision to engage in piracy."

"To rescue me! To prevent anything from happening to me!"

"It's true. All he thought about was Lizzie and how he could be her knight in shining armor," Charlie interjected. The governor spared her an assessing glance before returning his attention to his daughter.

Jack stepped forward before Swann could say anything, addressing the handsome man. "If I may be so bold as to inject my professional opinion. The _Pearl_ was listing near to scuppers after the battle. It's very unlikely she'll be able to make good time. Think about it. The _Black Pearl_. The last real pirate threat in the Caribbean, mate. How can you pass that up?"

"By remembering that I serve others, Mr. Sparrow, not only myself," he replied stiffly.

'_Even his voice is hot! That has __**got**__ to be illegal… I wonder what he'd be like drunk?_'

"Commodore, I beg you, please do this. For me. As a… wedding gift." The hesitancy was apparent to Charlie. She didn't want to do this. But having Will alive and unhappy was better than him being dead in Lizzie's books.

"Elizabeth, are you accepting the Commodore's proposal?"

The look of hope on the Commodore's face was enough to break Charlie's heart. She didn't know what was going to happen, but she knew enough to know that he was going to be hurt beyond belief in the near future. She wanted to cry for the man.

"I am." Oh how resigned she sounded.

"A wedding? I love weddings! Drinks all around!" Jack said, breaking the tension and the 'moment' effectively. At the Commodore's look, he settled down and extended his arms. "I know. Clap 'im in irons, right?"

Charlie laughed at that.

"Mr. Sparrow, you will accompany these fine men to the helm and provide us with the bearing to Isla de Muerta. You will then spend the rest of the voyage contemplating all possible meanings of the phrase "silent as the grave." Do I make myself clear?"

She knew he was only being so lenient in light of his impending nuptials to the girl he loved.

"Inescapably clear." Jack trudged off to do as ordered while Elizabeth was escorted below deck by her father and Gillette to get clean clothes that covered everything.

"You. Miss," the Commodore called, gesturing to Charlie.

"Yeah?" She shoved some curls out of her face and met his eyes.

"Come with me. I need to conduct an interview and make records of all this, and your involvement. Do you understand?"

"Of course I understand. I'm _not_ stupid." Her voice was dry.

He led her to the captain's cabin and had her sit in a stiff, wooden chair beside the roll-top desk. He situated himself at the desk and got out a quill and paper vellum. "Your name?"

"Charlotte Daniels. Please, just call me Charlie. What's your name, Commodore?"

He sighed. "James Norrington. What is your date of birth?"

She laughed. "You're not going to believe me."

Norrington merely quirked an eyebrow.

"Fine. It's December 29, 1980."

He began writing that down, but stopped once the date registered. "1980? That's impossible."

"No, it's im_probable_. Just like getting struck by lightning, but I was hit – indirectly, mind you – and poof! Here I am, stuck in the 1700s and unwillingly dragged into a very pirate-y wild goose chase and talking to you. It's a nightmare I'm still waiting to wake up from," she said matter-of-factly.

Charlie sounded so unscripted and natural, that a part of James Norrington believed her story. The other, more rational side needed proof, and he said as much.

"I've got nothing except my attire, my jargon, and my opinions. You won't hear any other woman – respectable or not – with my ideas. Oh! I do have proof! It'll just take a while for this stuff to happen and prove me right."

"What?" he huffed, getting annoyed.

"What year is it?"

"1734."

"Okay, on September 3, Joseph Wright will be born. He's gonna be a painter. On November 2, Daniel Boone – an American frontiersman will be born. And, on December 17, Maria I of Portugal will be born. She's going to be a queen someday."

"Anything else?" He was growing tired of her constant rambling.

"Yes. Britain will get into a war in about twenty-two years. If I recall properly, y'all lose." The sardonic tone wasn't lost on him, but, as he had no idea why she was mocking him, he didn't reply.

The words '_Provides proof of being futuristic. Mildly unstable'_ were scratched onto the paper.

"How did you become involved with the likes of Jack Sparrow and William Turner?"

"I was taking a walk at night during a break in a storm. The light pole next to me was hit by lightning and the electricity jumped to my body, causing me to pass out. When I woke up, I was receiving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation – courtesy of Jack – on the deck of the _Interceptor_. The rest is, as they say, history."

"What became of the _Interceptor_?"

"Barbossa blew her up after a battle and after the crew, Lizzie and I were tied to the mast of the _Black Pearl_."

"So you stand by your statement of all acts of piracy you've committed being involuntary?" His piercing eyes locked on her hazel ones, stopping all thoughts and words in their tracks. It became difficult for her to breath and her heartbeat sped up.

"Miss Daniels?"

It was only then that she realized she'd been staring at him. Embarrassed, Charlie cleared her throat. "Well, unless drinking rum straight from the bottle and befriending Will and Jack count as 'acts of piracy,' yes, I do. Survival instincts and all that."

"I see. Thank you Miss Daniels. That's all."

Charlie didn't budge. "My turn. I have some questions for you, Commodore."

His eyebrows rose and his mouth hardened. "This interview is over. You may join Mr. Sparrow in the brig."

"Hm, no. Do people always follow your orders without question? Well, duh! Stupid question. Okay, has no one ever stood up to you? Are you_really_ that scary?"

"My men follow my orders, because if they don't, the punishments are harsh to the point of death. That's the way of the Royal Navy."

Charlie rolled her eyes. The man could not discern curiosity from cruelty; all she was was curious. "I know _that_. What I meant was, are the orders followed because they respect you, or because they fear you? Have you earned their unwavering loyalty?"

"The door is over there. Show yourself out, please." He turned his attention back to the papers lying on the desktop.

"Look, Norrie, I'm just curious. I haven't exactly been on a Navy-run ship before," she said kindly. '_I want to know if you're really so different from the pirates you hunt down.'_

"Then why don't you ask some of my men. Good day, Miss Daniels."

"Fine, I know when I'm losing. Hey, can I hang out here?" James sat up, squeezing his eyes shut exasperatedly. "I don't want to be ogled by sex-deprived men or be out in the sun anymore. Besides, you have_books_ in here! Please? I'll behave, I promise." She sounded juvenile, but, if it worked, who was she to complain?

James weighed his options carefully. The woman just wanted to read in peace, something she couldn't do outside around the men. She'd promised to behave herself, and besides all that, she was Elizabeth's friend. Besides, a book would – more than likely – keep her silent.

On the other hand, Miss Charlotte Daniels was talkative and had a newfound talent in driving him out of his mind, not to mention the impropriety of it all.

But he didn't feel like dealing with a case of molestation or Charlie aggravating him into agreeing. So, there was only one way to go. "Fine, but you must be silent."

She saluted him before jumping out of the chair and scouring his bookshelf to find some interesting reading material. Charlie found a collection of Byron's poetry, out of place among the naval navigation tomes and novels like Utopia.

Charlie kicked her shoes and socks off before tossing her battered jacket on top of them and curling up on the bed with her book.

* * *

"When we two parted  
In silence and tears,  
Half broken-hearted  
To sever for years,  
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,  
Colder thy kiss;  
Truly that hour foretold  
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning  
Sunk chill on my brow--  
It felt like the warning  
Of what I feel now.  
Thy vows are all broken,  
And light is thy fame:  
I hear thy name spoken,  
And share in its shame."

An excerpt from _When We Two Parted_, by Lord Byron.

And that's the end of chapter four. Yes, it's long, but I wanted to give Norrington an entrance and show some CD/JN interaction. Oh goody!

Anyways, I'm sorry again for the delay. All I can say is: I'm a senior in high school and life is more dramatic than usual. I hate it.

Well, I hope someone is still reading this.

Love, always,

G.


	5. The Sweetest Sounds

Okay, I'm trying to post this today (11/11) but I don't know if I'll succeed. I'm writing this in lieu of doing homework, so please appreciate it. (This obviously _didn't _get posted on 11/11. Sorry!)

I think I need to tackle a couple of review replies before we start.

Kathleen: I guess it could be construed as being taken from Spring Awakening (oh how I adore that musical!), but the title hit me (I'd been planning this for a while in my head, you see) when I was watching one of the LotR movies. You know, the one where Pippin sings the song? It just seemed to fit, especially since I sort of had AWE figured out. I don't know… it fits both ways. Thank you so much for taking time out to review! And twice in one day, no less!

LowlyAlto: I'm sorry about not responding sooner. Anyways, I can't help worrying about what people think. I have some issues with that, but I'm working on it. I'm shy in a major way and am always worried about others opinions of me, especially concerning my writing and my music. These things are just so… personal. I don't know… Thanks for reviewing, though!

Onto Chapitre Cinq.

* * *

**Chapter Five:****The Sweetest Sounds**

"The sweetest sounds Ill ever hear  
Are still inside my head  
The kindest words Ill ever know, are waiting to be said  
The most entrancing sight of all, is yet for me to see  
And the dearest love in all the world  
Is waiting somewhere for me  
Is waiting somewhere, somewhere for me"

"The Sweetest Sounds" – Rodger's and Hammerstein's Cinderella

* * *

Dusk had fallen hours later, but Charlie's eyes had never left the book before her. Norrington had noted this and smiled to himself while lighting a couple of candles. The girl had been true to her word and not made a sound, surprising him immensely. 

He would look over sometimes to make sure she was still situated and comfortable – the gentleman in him demanded it, and would notice the sunlight glinting off of her honey(ish) colored curls, or how constant exposure to the sun had given her cheeks and the bridge of her nose a pinkish tint, or how intent her hazel eyes were on Pope's words. All of these traits warmed something inside of his chest. The navy man in him had quashed these extraneous emotions, roughly rerouting James' attention to planning and plotting possible tactics for the inevitable battle ahead. At least that's how it went in Charlie's imagination; in reality, he was smitten with one, Elizabeth Swann.

The only time his eyes collided with hers was when he rose to his feet to supervise preparations on deck. He was halfway to the door when it happened, glancing back one more time to check on Charlotte. She was curled up like a cat in the bed, book in her lap, staring unabashedly at him as he walked away, head held high and posture erect. If James hadn't known better, he would say she was blushing. Instead he attributed it to the sunburn. He smiled slightly, and the gesture was returned right as he turned and left.

After the door had shut and she was sure he wouldn't be returning soon, Charlie sighed and ran a frustrated hand through her hair. "God, he's hot. If he weren't in love with Lizzie, I'd jump him in a heartbeat. Ugh, life is unfair to the point of cruelty!"

"Ah, but that's why piracy exists: for poor souls like us, luv." Jack had managed to sneak into the Commodore's cabin.

"Good God, why are_ you_ in here?" Charlie wrinkled her nose in mock-distaste.

"Ye wound me, Charlotte. Can I not be in the company of the only person 'oo does not happen to hate me? Not ta mention, ye're rather pretty and I like ta think that I've got half a chance wiv ye." Jack settled himself into a lounging position beside her on the lovely, once-clean bed.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He grinned in a self-assured manner. "I didn't mean to lead you on. Poor dear…" The grin was washed away like chalk in a rain storm. "What do you really want, Jack?"

"If we're cuttin' ta the chase, Charlotte, I'll be straight wiv ye: I want ye ta warn the Commodore about our undead little friends hiding in Isla de Muerta. Ye're pretty and can play a damsel in distress be'er than me or Miss Swann, methinks." He pretended to pick at his nails, not looking at her until he was done speaking. Jack looked prepared to dive under the bed to escape any attempts on his person.

"People really use that word?! Shakespeare wasn't taking liberties then."

"Charlotte! Will ye do it or no?" He grabbed her by the shoulder and gave a couple of shakes.

"Chill out, Jackie dear. I've got your back. Now leave so I can finish this poem and go Commodore-hunting."

Jack grinned toothily in relief. "Ye're a gem, Lotte (1)." He bounced to his feet, walking jauntily towards the door. "Should all else fail, pretend ta cry. The sensitive types like Norrington can't help but give in ta a woman in tears." With that, Jack Sparrow was gone.

Charlie didn't really know what telling Norrington about undead pirates would do to help, but she would do it anyway. If it was part of Jack's plan, then far be it from her to hinder it in any way. But, if Charlie was really, brutally honest with herself, she had only agreed to spend a few more moments with the dashing officer.

She was a woman after all, and what woman can resist a handsome man in uniform?

* * *

A few moments after Jack left, Charlie abandoned her reading to hunt down a certain Commodore. She found him standing in the midst of organized chaos, overseeing every tiny detail. She hated interrupting him while he was working, but this needed to be done. 

Taking a deep breath, Charlie marched (more like several uncertain steps) towards the unsuspecting Commodore. "Excuse me, Mr. Norrington – oh shit, I mean, Commodore?"

He looked appalled that a "lady" knew such language and had used it before him. "Miss Daniels."

"Okay, look. I'm not _Miss_ Daniels. Call me either Charlotte or Charlie, though I warn you: too much of the Charlotte business might drive me to moderate violence," she said, grinning jocularly.

He smiled tightly back. "What did you seek me out for, Miss Charlotte?"

"Oh, I like that. Anyways, I just wanted to warn you about what kind of pirates you might be facing. These guys are big, bad, smelly, and kinda immortal."

James was taken aback. Immortal pirates? Who'd ever heard of such a thing? Either she was jesting, or was just mad. Sighing, he replied, "I highly doubt that they're immortal. They might very possibly be more difficult to – terminate than an ordinary man, but I assure you: immortality is mythical, something out of a fairy tale."

"I thought so too, until I shot one three times and no blood came from any of the holes! I stabbed another one (entirely by accident mind you, but the dude was trying to kill me!) _through the stomach_, and he didn't die! He just fell overboard and climbed right back up. I thought I was crazy and hallucinating at first, but when it happened to Lizzie and Will and Gibbs and even Marty, I realized that Jack had been right about the curse!" Charlie ended her rant breathing heavily and more annoyed than placated. She'd been running her hands through her hair so it was tousled and sticking out at odd angles, giving her a thoroughly deranged appearance.

To calm her down, he grabbed one of her hands in both of his, causing tingles to run down Charlie's spine and her heart to soar… before it was shot down by reality. "Miss Daniels, you must calm down. You are perfectly safe on the _Dauntless_ and no pirates shall reach you tonight, or any other night."

Regretfully, she pulled her hand from his warm, calloused ones. "If you're including Jack in that promise, then it's already been broken. Look, I just wanted to tell you so that as few people as possible get hurt. I have a bad feeling about tonight… Oh, hey. If you don't want Lizzie running off and possibly getting killed, I'd lock her up if I were you. The girl is kick-butt and all, but on a ship full of guns and canons, I'd be cautious. That and she's your fiancée. Congrats on that, by the way," she rambled.

"Thank you. If you'd return to the cabin, please, I need to continue monitoring my men and making sure our… _illustrious_ Captain Sparrow doesn't pull a disappearing act."

"Alright, I hear you. Stay safe, Commodore!" She walked away with her heart beating at what felt like a million miles a minute. '_I don't even know the man and he makes my hormones go haywire. I am a sad, pitiful, hopeless romantic of a woman. Too bad he's engaged…'_

Charlie's knees felt like jell-o, so sinking onto the bed was a blessing. The book that was mere entertainment before was now her only escape from the barrage of hormones and pheromones where the Commodore was concerned. '_Handsome, strong, loyal, ambitious, and obviously a person with a great capacity for loving, deep down beneath the crusty, navy layers – GAH!'_ She shook her head to clear it of such thoughts and settled in to read again.

Moments later, she could hear Lizzie screeching like a scalded cat, the noises coming closer and closer until Gillette and another man pushed her into the cabin.

"…it's for your own safety," the bewigged one was saying.

"Coward! The commodore ordered – I have to tell him! The pirates! They're cursed! They cannot be killed!" the young woman said hysterically.

"Don't worry, miss, he's already informed of that. A little mermaid flopped up on deck and told him the whole story." With that, the doors shut and locked, the click sounding a mite ominous.

"This is Jack Sparrow's doing!"

Charlie remained silent, not disputing that statement.

Elizabeth sighed, looking for some way out when her eyes lit on the sheets. "Charlotte, get up."

Charlie raised her eyes and asked, "Why?"

"I'm going to use the bed linens to make a rope so I can climb out and row to the _Black Pearl,_ and you're coming with me."

"No, I'm not. I'm comfortable and safe enough here. I've had plenty of adventures in the past few weeks, and I don't need any more, thank you." She dove back into the poetry.

"Charlie… please come with me. I need your help with the boat, and I will probably need it to rescue Jack's crew as well." Elizabeth was trying a new tactic, one Charlie saw too often with her old students.

"No can do, darling."

"I'll arrange it so that you spend more time with the Commodore." That got Charlie's attention. "You'll stay with father and I in Port Royal, and he visits constantly. I'll complain of a headache and leave you two alone at tea, or walking, or something, and maybe then he'll call the wedding off."

"You just want that to happen so that you can be with Will, guilt-free." Charlie saw to the heart of Elizabeth's plan within seconds, and, with her views being what they were, shot it down.

"Is that so wrong? I love Will, and he loves me too if this misadventure is anything to judge by. I'm sorry to have strung James along like this, I really don't want to hurt him, but it's necessary if I want to be happy and make everyone else happy as well."

"What do you mean?" Charlie sat up straight against the pillows, pinning the girl down with her eyes.

"James would never be happy if he were chained to me, and vice versa. I would hate being without Will and you would be miserable knowing you could never have James. This is helping Jack come closer to taking his ship back. If everything goes accordingly, then everyone gets what they want and everyone is happy."

"That's quite kind of you, hun, but also rather idealistic. You'll soon learn – maybe – that things like that rarely come to fruition in this world of ours. Don't get me wrong, I'd love a happy ending as much as the next romantic, but fairy tales don't always _have_ happy endings. It happens once in a blue moon, and tragedy inevitably follows in its wake. That's just the way of the world." Shaking her head, she got off her tangent. "What I was trying and failing to say is that, while sweet, the odds are against us here. I'm sorry." And she truly was.

Elizabeth's lips became thin and her eyes smoldered. "So, even though we're fighting the odds, don't you think even the possibility of such happiness is worth it? I realize that the things we want often have difficult paths preceding them, believe it or not. The strife and the struggle make success worth every painful moment in the end. We become stronger and prepared for what awaits us. I want a life with Will, with every fibre of my being, and I plan on fighting for that future. Do you think James deserves the same thing, or do you want to stay here where it's safe and comfortable?"

Tension filled the cabin as the two women stared one another down. Finally, Charlie broke it by sighing and shaking her head in disbelief. "You give one hell of a speech, Lizzie." To herself, she added, "I got pwned by a _kid_. So, bed-sheet ropes, huh?"

* * *

**Lotte**– a common nickname for girls named Charlotte. Pronounced lot-EE. Yeah, I really did that. 

Anyways, next chapter skips to Port Royal about a week in the future, because I'm chicken shit at writing out battle scenes. If you guys ask _**really**_ nicely, I'll give it a go, but only if I see some groveling.

I don't plan on updating until after Christmas, so Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Happy Kwanza, and Happy other holidays. I turn eighteen on the 29th. Wish me luck as a legal adult!!

Happy Holidays everyone!


	6. A Dangerous Game

Happy New Year, everyone!! I hope you all had fun and were relatively safe. Let's hope this is a good year, yeah?

Moving on to what you're really here for (I hope).

**Disclaimer: I do not own PotC by any stretch of the imagination. I only own Charlie, for whatever that's worth (not much).**

* * *

_**Chapter Six: Dangerous Game**_

"A darker dream -  
That has no ending -  
That's so unreal  
You believe that it's true!  
A dance of death -  
Out of a mystery tale -  
The frightened princess  
Doesn't know what to do!  
Will the ghosts go away?"

- "Dangerous Game,"Jekyll & Hyde

* * *

'_I cannot believe that she talked me into this with big words and noble intentions. There's deep water not three feet away from me, sharks live here by the dozen, and there's undead pirates running around. Great, this is just peachy!'_ Charlie raged in her head. The only outward indication of her anxiety was her lips pressed into a thin, white line. 

"Just another few meters and we're at the _Pearl_," Elizabeth panted, glancing behind them.

Charlie nodded jerkily and pushed herself harder, hoping to get as far away from the water as possible and soon. Her death grip on the oars was painful, but it was the only thing grounding her to a semi-calm state of mind.

Naturally, Elizabeth was too wrapped up in her fantasies of coming to Will's rescue to notice the older woman's forehead and upper lip sweating. The occasional bead of perspiration would run down her cheek of nose, creating a lovely track in the grime coating her face.

"Can't you go any faster?" she ground out.

Wordlessly, the other girl sped up to match Charlie's pace.

"I hope you realize I'm _not_ going in that cave with you, so someone's going to have to make a side trip to drop me back at the _Dauntless._"

"Fine."

Their little rowboat pulled up alongside the _Pearl_ and Elizabeth climbed up the rungs quickly, like she was born to do that rather than float around ballrooms. Charlie followed a lot less eagerly. Seriously, who would look forward to dealing with hostile pirates with weapons? Not her, that's for sure.

As the duo made their way across the deck to the open hatch, the creepy monkey swung down from nowhere and shrieked in their faces. Charlie jumped about a foot in the air, but Elizabeth was as cool as a cucumber. She smirked and it immediately lost its bravado. Lizzie did a roundhouse kick looking move and Jack went sailing over the railing. With a _thunk_ it hit a cannon barrel and then toppled into the water.

All of this was based on the noises Charlie's ears picked up as Elizabeth led the way below deck. Thundering footsteps sounded on the stairs below and were coming closer, so they took a bit of a detour and hid behind a corner until the pirates passed a few seconds later.

"That was a very Chuck Norris thing to do." At Elizabeth's affronted look, Charlie quickly added, "It's a compliment!"

Once more, Lizzie took the lead (ignoring that rather incomprehensible comment. Chuck Norris - who?), and Charlie rolled her eyes before following. There was no guarantee that Gibbs and them would be any help; they were pirates after all, and their world was one where "every man for himself, and damn the consequences" was the motto.

Down in the hold, Charlie heard Gibbs shushing everybody before exclaiming, "It's Elizabeth! And Ms. Charlie."

"Aw, don't sound so excited to see me, Gibbsy," Charlie cooed sarcastically.

He rolled his eyes at her and turned to Elizabeth. "How, exactly, do you plan on gettin' us outta here?"

Elizabeth dove into some extravagant plot that Charlie could care less about. She glanced around the hold and noticed the key ring hung on a nail at the other end of the room. "Excuse my interruption, but would _those _work?" she asked, pointing at the keys.

Blushing at her mistake, Elizabeth snatched them hurriedly, mumbling an apology. The pirates tossed one another skeptical glances.

As they filed out of the tiny cells, Charlie murmured to Lizzie, "Honey, it's nothing to worry about; you're just worried about William and you're under a bit of pressure, so it's not a big deal. Just… some things are simpler than they seem, alright?"

Elizabeth nodded jerkily, leading the pirates up on deck, where Grapple and another guard were quickly disposed of.

Lizzie ran out to a boat that was on deck by the rail. "All of you with me. Will is in that cave and we must save him. Ready? And heave!" She pulled on the rope as Charlie took the other one. No one else made a move to assist. "Please, I need your help! Come on!"

At that moment, the bird croaked, "Any port in the storm!"

"Cotton's right. We've got the _Pearl_," Gibbs exclaimed. The whole crew nodded in agreement.

"And what about Jack? You're just going to leave him?"

"Jack owes us ship," Marty stated.

"Aw, Marty, I thought you liked Jack," Charlie frowned. "That's not a very nice thing – never mind, you're pirates! What the hell was I saying?!"

"Then there's the Code to consider," Gibbs said.

"The Code." Disbelief dripped from her every syllable. "You're _pirates_. Hang the Code, and hang the rules! They're more like guidelines anyway."

Charlie's eyebrows rose as the pirates considered this new revelation. Soon, the two women were in the rowboat rowing towards the _Dauntless_. Elizabeth was rowing angrily, muttering under her breath about "bloody pirates" and "'_hang_ the Code,'" so they arrived back at the _Dauntless_ in record time. Shaking her head in wonder, she climbed the ladder up to the main deck where sounds of battle could be heard quite clearly.

She peeped up over the side and her eyes widened. There was blood on the deck, _lots_ of blood. And skeletons with cloth and meat hanging off of the bones; flesh looked like it was still decaying. The British officers were doing their best to keep the skeletons busy and avoid dying in the process, and she guessed that a few were fervently praying that Jack would find a way to break the curse so that they'd become mortal once more.

So, while her stomach churned at the sight and smell of blood and unwashed bodies, Charlie realized that she had no plan of action and no weapon to defend against possible attackers. She decided to improvise her way towards the captain's cabin, the most secure place on the ship.

She hauled herself up on deck and skirted around groups of fighters while trying not to step in any blood. Shivers raced up and down her spine and the hairs on her arms and neck rose. Charlie was afraid; afraid of the undead, afraid of dying, afraid of the lifeless men just _lying_ there, and afraid of the blood.

A pirate spotted her, defenseless and obviously frightened, and began making his way toward her. She saw this and froze in place, the shivers multiplying by ten. She began hyperventilating. All she could see was that one pirate. Running now. He was running right at her.

As Charlie sucked in what might have been her last breath, a figure intercepted the charging pirate and engaged him in battle. While moving the fight away from the paralyzed woman, Groves shouted, "Get to the cabin, miss!"

That jolted Charlie out of her paralysis and she ran towards the double doors… only to find them locked. She rattled the handles a few times and then began pounding with her fists. "Let me in! Let me in! Please, oh God, open up!" She glanced around behind, to make sure she was safe for the moment.

And then she noticed the broken glass around the knobs. Deciding to take a chance, she stuck her hand through and fumbled frantically for the lock. She found it, but her sweaty and shaking hands made it near impossible to get the damn thing open! She kept groping around for another few seconds and nearly cried with relief when the lock sprung open. Charlie quickly retracted her hand and practically flew through the doors, making sure to lock them behind her.

She walked quickly towards the bed when she noticed the governor pressing back against a quaking chest of drawers with all his might.

"What are you _doing_?"

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Severed arm," was all he said.

She took a few tentative steps forward and could see the sweat on his forehead. Charlie wanted to help him, she really did, but logic said that he was bigger and therefore better suited to do the job than she; the frightened part screamed that severed arms were bad and that she'd better stay away, or else.

Charlie listened to the cowardly part and retreated to the bed, where she clasped her tiny cross and prayed.

* * *

What seemed like hours later, all sounds of fighting stopped and Swann's chest of drawers stopped shaking. They both got up and peered inside the drawer in question, and it was slammed quickly shut after Charlie ran for the little balcony to heave her stomach's contents into the sea. 

After rinsing her mouth out, she joined the joyous RN men on the main deck where she kissed Groves on the cheek exuberantly. "Thank you," she cried, shaking his hand warmly.

He looked more than slightly bewildered but then realization dawned and he grinned at her unabashedly. "It was my pleasure," he said as suavely as possible.

Charlie laughed and walked to the railing to watch as the navy men bundled all the pirates into the brig.

They didn't put up a fight, shockingly enough, so it was a fairly speedy process. Norrington watched as they went below to be sure everything was going smoothly before helping a deckhand fling Koehler's body into the ocean. He issued some quiet orders to them and they nodded and went below as well. He extended the offer that the governor take his cabin, which the older man accepted. He reappeared moments later, drawer in hand, to dump its contents into the sea before retreating once more.

Norrington was slightly confused, but shrugged it off as he strode towards Charlie. He stood ramrod straight, arms behind his back as he watched the cave opening for any movement.

Deciding to break the silence, Charlie said, "There was an arm in the governor's drawer; he was getting rid of it."

"Ah," he nodded, allowing the silence to reign once more. As a lifeboat made its way to the ship, he asked, "What were you thanking Theodore for?"

Charlie looked at James in confusion. "Who?"

"Lieutenant Theodore Groves, the man whose hand you shook so energetically."

"Oh. He saved me from being skewered on a pirate's sword. It was rather gallant of him."

"Hm."

"It wasn't gallant?"

"What?"

"Groves saving me."

"It was. Why do you ask?"

"That 'hm' sounded rather dubious to my ears. What does that mean anyway? I mean, in any context 'hm' can mean a _million_ different things. In what way were you using that onomatopoeia?" '_I am __**such**__ a nerd! Onomatopoeia? What the hell? Yeah, I want to make an impression on this guy, but not with my uber-nerd powers. Ugh.'_

"It was just a very general 'hm.' I suppose I'll give him a commendation for that. I might even put his name up for promotion, or at least a medal."

Charlie's eyebrows rose. He was revealing his thoughts to her! Or, at least, talking about work with her. Either way, he was talking to her! Charlie nearly sighed giddily, but she caught herself in time to stop it. At least he understood her nerd-speak.

"That sounds really nice, Commodore." She leaned forward and propped her forearms on the rail, forgetting, for a little while, that she'd nearly died for the second time in a month and a half that night. Her eyes closed on reality and she relaxed into the cold wind, savoring that reminder of life.

And he smiled indulgently at the sight.

Half an hour of comfortable silence later, Jack, Will, and Elizabeth were back on board and the _Dauntless _was ready to make its way back to Port Royal.

* * *

Happy (late) Holidays, everyone! Okay, exciting news: I'm now eighteen! YAY! That means I get to vote!! Oh how joyous! 

Anyways, I hope you're all doing fine and that you'll leave a review for me.

Quick question: During the AWE section of this fic, should I stick to cannon and kill dearest James off? Or should he live and marry Charlie?

Another quick question: Should Charlie be there for all of the AWE stuff with Will and Lizzie? Should she get taken with Lizzie as part of Sao Feng's deal? Or, should she be in Port Royal the whole time and have James take her as his wife for her own safety, what with Beckett and all?

Let me know! Or, if you have other ideas of what could happen, tell me! I love hearing from you guys (I know more are reading than the few that review!) and I really want your input on this. I write for pleasure, both to give it and to bring it. I want to know what will make you happy.

Kisses!

Galasriniel

(By the way, I'm reposting this and chapter five after having several errors pointed out. Thank you, **_Luthien Saralonde_**!)


	7. A New Day

The music stopped for what seemed the hundredth time in twenty minutes

A/N: I'm so terribly sorry for not writing anything sooner! I have a _ton_ of reasons/ excuses why I haven't, but I'll spare you and give an apology instead!!

So, big news! I'm a college student now! WOOOT! School's been in for about two months (total) because we, the people south of Houston and east and west and poor Galveston, have been attacked by Hurricane Ike.

Yes, I had friends who threw hurricane parties.

Did I attend any? No, I was busy sleeping through a force of nature's assault.

I'm dead serious.

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own PotC. I am not an over-sized mouse with awesome ears. I am not Walt Disney or Mike Eisner. If I were, Norry wouldn't die, and he'd get a totally rockin' girl (_cough _Charlie _cough_) and be the main character. Because I love him that much.

* * *

_**Chapter Seven: A New Day  
**_

"Daylight -  
I must wait for the sunrise  
I must think of a new life  
And I mustn't give in  
When the dawn comes  
Tonight will be a memory too  
And a new day will begin…

Look, a new day has begun" – "Memory" – _Cats_, Andrew Lloyd Webber

* * *

The music stopped for what seemed the hundredth time in twenty minutes. Charlie heaved a sigh, slouching quickly before standing straight again. Elizabeth's heels clicked on the parquet as she crossed to Charlotte and Will (an unwitting participant in the women's scheme). He stiffened as well, face going blank. Charlie saw and her heart went out to him, but she did nothing. The two lovebirds had to fix it themselves.

"Charlie, you _must stop leading_ William. He is the man, you are the woman, so allow yourself to be led for once, yes? If you want to dance – and it would look odd if you didn't – at the party, be able to let _someone else_ take control. You've got the steps down beautifully, but…" Elizabeth lectured (she sounded like one of Charlie's old dance instructors), unable to keep a slight tinge of pink from her cheeks from her proximity to Will, no doubt.

"I'm sorry, really I am. I'm just used to being in control of myself at all times. This is hard. I mean, even in ballet I didn't have to depend on a man for everything. This ballroom bit is difficult." She rolled her shoulders, preparing to go again.

Will stood woodenly beside the older woman, trying to ignore the other's presence. Elizabeth looked divine in her simple, sky-colored gown. Her golden hair was half-back and curling gently. Of course she looked beautiful; it was hard for her _not_ to.

"Do you think you can manage to be led?" the beauty asked laughingly.

"If not, then you have permission to – "

A knock interrupted. The new butler followed the knock. "Commodore Norrington to see you, miss."

"Thank you, Jenson. Please show him in."

Will looked panicked at the mention of the Commodore and his love's fiancé. "I should be going. Mr. Brown needs me at the shop. Excuse - ."

Charlie latched onto his arm. "There is no way in _hell_ you get to run and leave me here alone. Stay and dance, or I will make you regret it," the blonde hissed. If Will left, then the entire plot was shot.

The nails digging into his arm decided for him. "Alright, but only if you stop trying to draw my blood."

She looked down, shocked that she'd hurt her friend and let go quickly, like she'd been burned. "Sorry."

Will patted her hand and smiled to tell her it was alright just when the door opened, allowing the Commodore to enter. Elizabeth stood to greet him, and that was all he saw, walking to his fiancée.

When James kissed Elizabeth's hand, Charlie could see a vein ticking in Will's jaw. His fists clenched and he looked one step away from having steam spout from his ears.

"Good afternoon, Miss Daniels. Mr. Turner," James said, smiling congenially. In an undertone to Lizzie, he said, "I didn't know that anyone else would be joining us."

"Will and I are trying to teach Charlotte ballroom dances," Elizabeth said simply, so that the other two could hear. "She's having some difficulties relinquishing control."

"What can I say? I suppose it's my… _inherent_ independence," the woman in question shrugged.

"You _are_ far from being domesticated," Will said, earning a laugh and a slug on the arm. "She refuses to follow my lead, that is all."

"Perhaps someone else, then?" Charlie asked, a certain look in her eyes that rather worried the young blacksmith.

"Yes, but who?" Lizzie responded. The two had rehearsed this the night before.

"Well, your father, maybe? No, he's so busy, what with all the warrants. There's always Jenson," Charlie suggested, shrugging again.

"No, no. He wouldn't know the dances. Oh, I know!" Queue the inspiration. "James?" Lizzie asked, sweetly.

"Yes, dear?"

Lord, he was polite, and attentive, and sweet underneath the crusty layers, and… Charlie shook herself out of it.

"Maybe… _you_ could try dancing with Charlie? You are quite good, and I know that you would hate for her to not enjoy herself at her first party." When he still looked reluctant, Elizabeth looked up at him through her lashes prettily. "Please, James? It _is_ our engagement ball…"

He agreed after that, albeit unenthusiastically, switching places with Will, who was to turn pages and sit close to Elizabeth at the pianoforte. The grace James walked with reminded Charlie of a panther, sliding sinuously and effortlessly through the shadows (so she watched Animal Planet when nothing better was on. Big deal.), except that there were no shadows in the sun-brightened room. Her heart beat faster as she watched him approach, and before she knew it, he was standing in front of her.

Charlie raised her arms and settled into the beginning pose for a waltz. The hand on her waist burned her skin through a couple layers of cotton and a corset. When James took her left hand in his right, it just felt _right_. There was no fitting like puzzle pieces or any of that rubbish, it… was just right. Like everything was the way it was meant to be, or something else equally poetic.

Elizabeth began to play and then they were off. At first it was flat out awkward, and Charlie fell into leading, but James pulled her closer and the dance came together perfectly.

"It seems that all you needed was a stronger hand," James said, twirling Charlie around and then sweeping her back into his arms.

Not liking the way he said that (or any of the words used), she trod on his foot. Hard.

At his wince, Charlie exclaimed, with faux concern, "Oh no! Are you alright?"

"Fine," he grimaced.

"I just lost the count in my head, I guess. So sorry." The victorious gleam in her eyes was enough to tell him that she was anything but.

He just nodded. Over her shoulder, he could see Will and Elizabeth watching them and laughing quietly. He smiled slightly, finding the humor but not really appreciating it.

Charlie gazed at him absently for a moment, trying to decide if she should say something or not. Speaking won, but what should she say? "You have really beautiful eyes."

And embarrassment struck once more.

She flushed.

He flushed.

It was awkward.

"Thank you," he said softly, squeezing her hand gently, like she would break if he squeezed too hard.

Charlotte just smiled sweetly and squeezed back, wishing they'd met in her time and with no obstacles, like pirates and fiancées.

'_Wishing gets you nowhere_,' she scolded herself, frowning a bit. '_Stop dreaming and __do_.'

With renewed determination, Charlie resolved to enjoy these few moments of being whirled around in James Norrington's arms – probably the first and only time she'd ever even come close to such a true gentleman again.

The minutes passed, stretching out into a pleasant eon for Charlie. She hoped the other couple would leave, allowing James and herself to keep dancing in private. She just wanted to stand as close to him as she could for as long as she could. '_That sounds ridiculously adolescent, and more than a little stalkerish. Ugh! What kind of freak am I?!'_

While lost in her thoughts, James continued to lead her around the ballroom until the music stopped. When it ended, he twirled Charlotte around one last time and dropped into a bow. She mimicked with a curtsy a la ballerina, which somehow proved amusing for the pair at the piano.

"Brava!" Elizabeth trilled happily, glowing from a certain blacksmith's proximity. "That was much better. If you dance like that tomorrow night, you'll be one of the most sought after women in Port Royal! Mamas will be lining up to introduce you to their sons and nephews and so on, and so forth. "

Shrugging awkwardly, Charlie said, "Thanks, Lizzie. Can you shut up now?"

Will laughed, sensing her discomfort, while Elizabeth rolled her eyes. James, however, felt extraordinarily out of place, as if he were intruding on the little circle of close friends the three younger people created. He was about to excuse himself when Charlie latched onto his arm, leading him out the double French doors and into the garden behind Will and Elizabeth, after a conversation he'd completely missed while wallowing in his discomfort.

"They wanted to walk, so we're playing chaperone. Is it improper for a young woman to be alone with her fiancé, either outside or in… say, a library?" Charlie wondered.

James looked at her oddly, trying to decipher her thought pattern. "If the couple were just a hedgerow away from everyone else, no, it is a perfectly acceptable action. However, if they are out on a veranda in the evening while a soiree of some sort is occurring, then yes, it is highly improper. It all depends on the location and other variables."

"I see," she nodded. "So, how long have you been sailing?" '_Hello, most random subject change in the history of subject changes!'_ Charlie mentally rolled her eyes at herself, wondering why the damn brain-to-mouth filter wasn't working.

He smiled fondly; finally, a subject he was passionate about! "I've been sailing since I was a boy. My uncle owned a sea-side summer home, and my entire family would gather there each year. Every afternoon – weather permitting – my uncle, father, and I would all go out on his boat, _The Sea Spray_." She laughed at how unoriginal it was. "Yes, I know," James agreed. "Not at all creative, but she was a fine craft. That's how I learned to sail.

"When I was twenty-two, I finished school and enlisted in His Majesty's navy. I've been working up the ladder for fourteen years since. I continued my studies, things men would be learning in extended vocational studies, and further developed discipline. I credit my promotions to that." His tone was warm and pleasant, happy, while he spoke, with an underlying passion. She looked at him, noticed how his eyes sparkled with joy and passion as he spoke of his job and the sea.

"You really love it." It was a statement, not a question, but he answered anyway.

"Yes, I do. More than anything." His eyes were a soft blue-green, much like the sea he was so in love with.

"I know how you feel. I was a choir teacher back home, but my real passion was dancing. I'd been doing it since I was two years old – young, I know, but that's the best time to enroll a child in dance. It sculpts the body early, and provides the necessary social skills and discipline levels needed for more demanding classes. I don't know what I'm going to do here, where ballet is impossible to teach. Maybe I'll go to London and see if I can get a job on stage there…" Her brow furrowed and she bit her bottom lip as she pondered this.

James thought she looked adorable. And then he remembered he was engaged and it was improper to think of another woman that way.

"Women who perform on stage aren't very highly thought of." He had to say _something_ to turn his train of thought around.

"I know the reputation stage-girls have earned, but if one has a pristine record and good manners, then it shouldn't be too terribly difficult to charm one's way into the better circles, thus advancing oneself and networking all at once."

"It is sound in theory, but much more difficult in practice. What if you were to teach dance and hold recitals here, in Port Royal?" He didn't know where that suggestion came from, or why he felt the need to keep her close. He passed it off as merely wishing to look out for a friend in a new, foreign environment.

"That would involve having a proper studio, mirrors, _barres_, toe shoes, uniforms, a pianist – the whole nine yards. It's something I haven't the means for, much less a place to do it all."

"The concert hall is a fine place for performances, and there are several buildings that rent rooms. Said rooms are sometimes open for refurbishment."

"Thank you for the wonderful idea, really, but there is still the lack of cash to contend with. I'm sure these things don't come cheap – especially the shoes and proper uniforms. And mirrors. An entire wall would have to be mirrors, so the girls would be able to see themselves. It's impossible. Maybe I'll offer my services to a church choir… Anyways, thank you, but don't worry about it. I'll find a way to cope here." She sent him a grateful smile, feeling awkward discussing her limited options with James Norrington, Mr. Manners himself. They continued on after the younger pair in momentary silence. "So… when do you want the wedding to be?"

He smiled at the thought of marrying the girl he adored. "In the spring, when the flowers are blooming all around. It would be in a church of course. I was raised going to church every Sunday, you know." They had given up on following the other couple and were now strolling aimlessly around the governor's expansive gardens.

"Like any proper person," she agreed. '_You are such a hypocrite! You didn't go to church weekly! You were lucky to make it once a month!_' "It's only right to have the union recognized by both God and the law."

"Indeed. It would be in the late afternoon, followed by the wedding feast and dancing in the evening." His eyes were foggy with imagining that joyous day.

"It sounds beautiful," Charlie said softly, squeezing his arm. '_I'm going to hell. I'm standing here listening to him describe his ideal wedding day, and conspiring with his fiancée to break the relationship up. Yup, there is a barstool in Hell with my name on it.'_

"I'm certain you'll be attending. Elizabeth would want her closest friend there, possibly to sign as a witness, and even stand up with her!"

Shamefully, she asked, "Who would you want to stand up with you?"

"Lieutenants Gillette and Groves; we enlisted together, you know. They are my most trusted friends."

Charlie snickered at Gillette's name.

Puzzled, James asked, "What is so terribly amusing?"

"It's just that, when I'm from, Gillette is the name of a lady's razor." Her hazel eyes sparkled with suppressed mirth.

He flashed his grin briefly. "You should inform him of this tomorrow night. I filled him and Groves in on your past… future. I didn't submit that in the official reports, so you have no reason to worry."

She looked shocked at this revelation, lowering herself onto a handy bench. "Why would you do that? I mean, couldn't you land in some really hot water if it gets out?"

James sat beside her, unintentionally pressing his thigh against hers. A jolt of static energy ran through her veins. "I had no desire to see a perfectly lucid, refreshing young woman be taken off to the madhouse. Someone like you doesn't belong there, especially when there is nothing wrong with your mind." He was surprised by his own words, realizing the truth in them. It was the first time he'd admitted it to himself, much less anyone aside from his lieutenants.

Charlie stared at her hands, too astounded to say anything. She hadn't realized the ramifications for her honesty. Small-minded men, like the ones she was sure were on the navy's court, wouldn't take kindly to her tales of gas-powered, horseless, steam-less vehicles or open-heart surgery or electricity or a million other things. She hadn't realized that she could be shipped off to the loony-bin and experimented on by crazy "doctors", while being mistreated and malnourished.

James seemed to understand what was going through her mind as he took her hand and squeezed. The gesture was surprisingly intimate.

Before Charlie realized what she was doing, her mouth latched onto his, kissing him with everything she had – while abstaining from using her tongue – and (the most shocking part) he kissed her back. He didn't seem to be thinking clearly, just reacting instinctually. It lasted a moment longer and then she pulled away, blushing at her forwardness. The man was still engaged for cripes' sake! Risking a glance up, she saw that his actions – and hers – were finally dawning on him.

Charlie leapt up, hoping to avoid a lecture or confrontation. "I know, I shouldn't have done that! We hardly know each other, and it was improper, and, to top it off, you're engaged! I'm not going to apologize, because that was the best kiss I've ever had, but I will say thank you. For not spilling the beans about my secret, I mean. And for the kiss. But mostly for the secret. I'm going to shut up and leave now. See you tomorrow." She chunked a deuce (another quirk she'd picked up from her high school students) and darted back towards the mansion.

'_I'm officially going to Hell. Yup. There is no place in Heaven for a whore like me…_Why_ am I so stupid?!' _She continued her mental chastisement (conveniently forgetting that that was the goal she and Elizabeth were working towards) all the way to her room, where she flopped on the squishy bed and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

After several hours of preparation and primping and feeling utterly ridiculous, Elizabeth forcibly dragged Charlotte down to the dining hall, where a pre-party dinner was being held for some family friends. Unfortunately for Charlie, James Norrington was among their number. However, they were seated at opposing sides of the table and catty-corner to one another, so talking wasn't necessary until after the entrée.

"How are you enjoying Port Royal, Miss Daniels?" Mr. Edward Danvers, a judge, asked kindly while sipping his wine.

"I'm completely besotted with it, Judge Danvers," she replied, smiling shyly. "I'm still not acclimated to the weather, but why complain? No snow, no cold – This is my ideal home."

"Are there any prospective suitors in your future, my dear?" Mrs. Wilkinson was the resident socialite, and the worst of the matchmaking-mamas. She was an older woman, widowed, with one son and two daughters, all of whom were seated around her. The woman eyed Charlie out of the corner of her piercing blue eyes.

"No, ma'am. I've only just arrived here, you see, and haven't been introduced into society yet. I'm Amer – from the colonies, and am imposing on Governor Swann's kindness. I don't think any of those are desirable qualities in a potential-wife." '_Read: I don't want to be courted by anyone, just so I can be turned into a baby-making machine.'_

"Well, my dear, your situation really cannot be helped. However, you are lovely and have a certain… air of mystery about you. That is certainly enough to attract young men from around town. Speaking of young men, Miss Swann, Commodore, I must extend my congratulations. Has a date been set?"

Elizabeth froze, not quite sure how to answer that without incriminating herself. So she merely smiled, and thanked Mrs. Wilkinson for her consideration, still unsure how to proceed.

James cut in smoothly. "No, madam, we haven't set anything in stone quite yet. While I've been busy at the fort with paperwork and trials, Miss Swann has been introducing her new friend to everything offered in Port Royal. Once everything falls back into a normal routine, then we shall discuss our matrimony, shan't we, Miss Swann?"

"Most definitely, Commodore." Elizabeth smiled and took a swig of her wine. "I look forward to it."

Only Charlie noticed the blatantly false smile the governor's daughter had flashed the room.

And the conversation turned to other things, such as sailing conditions, the jail being over-full, and the dreadful adventure the two young women had been a part of. Clementine Wilkinson was waxing on about its supreme awfulness, while Charlie and Elizabeth exchanged a **Look**_**.**_The pair would rather be on a pirate ship than listening to this girl. "…And to be the only two women accosted by such brigands? Simply unspeakable. I haven't the faintest idea how you should cope in such a situation," she simpered, trying to appear sweet and caring. "However did you escape with your…_ reputations_ intact?"

"By staying out of their way and locking doors behind us," Charlie said wryly, quirking an eyebrow at Clementine's insinuation. '_If only she knew I'd lost __**it**__ nine years ago, and had been with two other guys since._' Imagining the little snot's attitude brought a smile to her face. "However, I don't appreciate your insinuation that Miss Swann or myself would compromise our virtue in such a manner. It is rather crude of you."

"And ignorant, really. We are both intelligent, capable women, and, knowing such, it is foolish of you to assume we would _willingly_ go anywhere near those men without some sort of defense," Elizabeth added. "Even one so meager as a locked door."

James just sat back to watch the two older girls tear Miss Wilkinson's implication (just to further improve her standing with important men and their sons) to shreds. The girl was a desperate harpy of a ladder-climber, trying to find a husband everywhere she went and ruin other girls' reputations to make hers look all the better. It was about time she received her comeuppance.

And the conversation resumed its previous lightness once more, courtesy of a terrible, albeit well-timed joke from the Governor.

Clementine sat back and pouted, looking ashamed; whether the shame was at her words or at the reaction her words had garnered – both from the guests and the girls – was unclear. Perhaps she knew she'd be on the receiving end of a tongue-lashing for offending the governor's daughter after the ball. Either way, James mentally applauded Elizabeth for handling the situation so well and turning the conversation back to its proper path so easily.

And then dinner was over and other guests began arriving. The ball was under way.

* * *

After three dances (James danced with Elizabeth the first one, and an Abigail Rush the second, before returning to his fiancée), Governor Swann stood up to make a speech. Holding his champagne flute high, he said, "Now as some of you may know, my daughter, Elizabeth has accepted Commodore James Norrington's proposal. This party is to celebrate their impending nuptials, to celebrate their happiness – " Elizabeth forced a brilliant smile, arm entwined with James' " – and the added family member. I look at this not as losing a daughter, but as gaining a son. James, I've thought of you as my own for many years now – since that crossing from England, in fact – and I'm happy to welcome you to the family. To James and Elizabeth, may their life together be a happy one!"

Everyone repeated the toast, downing some champagne. Charlie did so as well – chugging the entire glass - and then promptly slipped out onto the veranda. She wanted no more to do with young men (most younger than she) vying for a dance with the governor's new, unofficial ward. They seemed to think that, since Elizabeth was off the market, Charlie was the key to political affluence. If only they knew the truth of it all…

"Stupid power games…" she growled, lifting up her emerald colored skirts as she struggled onto the wide stone railing, gazing out at the gardens. The moonlight leant the grounds an ethereal quality, shining over the flowers and walkways. The water in the fountain ran like a stream of liquid silver, gurgling and laughing in the moon's wake. If not for the strains of the orchestra and the chatter from the ballroom, Charlie would have easily believed herself the only person on the planet.

Ever since the kiss she and James had shared the previous afternoon, he'd been avoiding her. Today there'd been another "dance lesson" which was followed by the four strolling through the garden. Charlie had quickly latched onto Will, sending Elizabeth an "I'll explain later when there are no men present" look, hoping to avoid any awkward conversations with the dashing officer. It had worked to some extent; sadly (or not so much) Elizabeth had wanted to walk with Will (and Charlie, she had quickly added), which meant that the four were left to walk the gardens together. That meant that Charlie and Norrington had to converse, which was on the Things Not To Do For The Foreseeable Future list for both, which resulted in awkwardness.

And that awkwardness transferred over to the party.

'_Of course it would! I can't even enjoy dinner without him sitting across the way from me! And then watching them dance… I know Lizzie has noticed that I've been avoiding that activity tonight, and I just _know_ that she's going to make me do it with Ja – Norrington. Ugh. This majorly sucks. _Why_ did I have to go and kiss him?! __**Why?!**_' She huffed petulantly, beating herself up over her apparent lack of self-control when it came to handsome men in uniforms.

Charlie didn't hear the door clicked closed or the measured footsteps approaching her perch. She hadn't realized she was no longer alone until he spoke.

"Ms. Daniels, Elizabeth sent me to fetch you back inside. She wishes to introduce you to some of her friends' brothers."

When he first spoke, Charlie started and fell backwards into his chest. Once righted, she put a hand over her speeding heart. "Dude, seriously? It's not cool to sneak up on people whose minds are elsewhere. You could have sent me into cardiac arrest!"

He raised an eyebrow at her exclamation. "I'm quite sure you're too healthy for that. Come, Elizabeth has a bevy of admirers for you to meet."

"Fine," she huffed. "Can you help me down? This damn dress and corset are not conducive to motion."

Sighing, he put his hands on her waist and lifted her down. "How did you get up there in the first place?"

"Sheer force of will." Charlie refused to look at him, so she smoothed her skirts instead. Ignoring the tingling where his hands had been, she brushed by him, trying to get out from between James' hard body and the railing. "So, how's it going?"

James shook his head at her attempt to lessen the tension between them. Needless to say, it didn't work. "As well as can be expected." He decided to just ask her the question that had been plaguing him for the past twenty-four hours, figuring that being straightforward would produce more results than beating around the bush – or staying silent on the matter. "Why did you kiss me?"

Shocked at his directness, Charlie just gaped. "Uh…" '_Oh yes, that is supremely intelligent. Why not just stare at him until he realizes that you're too stupid to waste his time on? Ugh. I disgust myself…' _ "I honestly have no idea. I…" She rallied her courage. "I like you, Commodore James Norrington. I want to get to know you better, but as you are engaged, that is quite impossible to do and have it head in the direction I would like. I'm sorry for pouncing on you when it was so unwanted, but I'm not sorry for the nicest kiss I've ever had. So, I hope you get to live happily ever after with the girl of your dreams. I'm going to find Lizzie, and a handsome young man to dance with." She picked up her skirts and bustled off into the ballroom, cheeks blazing. Hopefully it would attributed to youthful exuberance and not an illicit affair or something.

"Charlotte!" Elizabeth waved her over. "Charlotte, this is Mr. William Davenport. Mr. Davenport, my good friend Charlotte Daniels."

A very good looking man of about twenty-eight took the proffered hand and kissed it, lingering a bit longer than customary. She noticed his hands were soft and smooth: a definite sign of wealth. His deep blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Charlotte."

"Right back at you." She made sure to smile charmingly as James had just joined the small group. "I hope it's not too rude of me to ask, but what is it, exactly, that you do?" Charlie leaned her head slightly to the left, still smiling. '_Oh dear Lord, put me out of my misery soon, I beg of you!'_

"My father owns one of the sugarcane plantations, and I manage his books, and occasionally go out to supervise the field hands. Our property is several acres, and one of those is dedicated to a fruit orchard. It's mostly bananas and mangos, but we have a few others."

"That sounds fascinating, Mr. Davenport," she lied.

He laughed, "No need to lie, Ms. Charlotte. I know very few women care for farming, and even fewer care for numbers. But tell me, which colony are you from?"

"Oh, I'm from…" She quickly tried to recall which states had been colonies. "Virginia. My father was a plantation owner as well, cotton mostly, and my mother would volunteer her time at a church as an organist."

"'Was'?"

"They died." She offered no further information, which seemed to pique Mr. Davenport's interest even more. In actuality, Charlie was missing her parents who were back in 2008. And her mood plummeted even further.

The quartet stood awkwardly, James with his hand on the small of Elizabeth's back and avoiding looking at Charlie; Elizabeth wishing it were Will there with her; Davenport itching to break the silence; and Charlie just wanting to go to bed, or to get supremely drunk. It didn't really matter to her at this point.

"Ms. Charlotte, may I have this dance?"

The band had just started a waltz and everyone on the dance floor began moving in unison. The brightly colored silks of the ladies dresses made Charlie think of tropical birds flitting through the sun. '_I really need to lay off Animal Planet…'_

"Oh, uh… I…" Charlie looked at Elizabeth pleadingly. "I'm not so sure I can – "

"Mr. Davenport, I'm offended you didn't ask me!" Elizabeth teased, with a wicked smile to let him know she wasn't _too_ serious. "Come, you must dance with me and give poor James a bit of respite." The younger woman dragged the poor man off to join the swirling vortex of bodies.

And Charlie and James were successfully left with one another. Neither could walk away, because that would be completely offensive, not to mention frowned heavily upon. So they were stuck with one another until a distraction came along.

Being the two stubborn mules they are, they refused to look at each other. However, as a tip of the hat to propriety, they made pointless small talk.

"The party is beautiful," Charlie said with forced lightness.

"Governor Swann has really out-done himself; but, I suppose, one's daughter only marries once, so that alone is cause for such celebration," Norrington replied stiffly.

"I suppose. It's ridiculously hot in here." She was fanning herself vigorously. "Are all of these people the upper-crust of Port Royal society?"

"For the most part. Others are high ranking military men, a diplomat or two from England, and relatives of the "upper-crust"."

A waiter bearing a tray of full champagne flutes passed by, trying not to spill his burden. Charlie quickly snatched one and drank half of the stuff in one go. If she wanted to survive the evening, she was going to need lots of it.

* * *

Andrew Gillette was gazing around the ballroom, drinking in the ridiculous displays of wealth (one woman had diamonds sewn onto her shoes), waiting for Theodore Groves to grow bored of his simpering admirers. He continued sipping his champagne in a bored fashion, contemplating how best to escape society's smothering demands (smile, greet, mindless small talk, matchmaking mamas, a dance, and the thought of just running himself through with his saber to end his misery before it started all over again) when a lovely lady in green caught his attention.

He swung his forearm into his counterpart's back, effectively gaining his attention. "Theo, I believe I see the Commodore looking _incredibly _out of place talking with that vision in green." The evil glint in his dark eyes gave his intentions away to his best friend.

"Why, Andrew, I do believe you're right! What say you to ending our _dear_ Commodore's torment?" The same glint appeared in Theo's hazel eyes. "And, perhaps, having a little fun while we're at it?"

"Theo, you stole the very words from my mouth."

And with that quick exchange, the duo expertly ducked and weaved through the crowded ballroom to their superior's side.

……..

James saw the two mischievous men heading at full-steam in his direction. He groaned, closing his eyes, and muttered, "Dear Lord, save me."

Charlie just eyed him oddly, wondering what the hell his malfunction was, before turning to see what garnered such a reaction. Weaving towards them were two officers with wicked smirks on their faces, one of whom she recognized. "What's wrong? It's just – oh, what's his face… The dude who saved my life? Oh, Groves and, who I presume to be, Gillette."

"Exactly. It's Groves and Gillette."

"What's wrong with them? I don't understand – " She was cut off from further comment by the duo's arrival.

"Good evening, Commodore Norrington," the one she didn't recognize practically chirped. "How fares the newly engaged bloke this _divine_ eve?"

"I was doing much better before the lot of you came over here," James rolled his eyes, used to his friends' antics. He was rather worried for Charlotte's reaction to them. It could be quite a lot to take in, especially when Andrew and Theo joined forces.

Charlie watched, amused, while Groves hovered by her side.

"You know," his deliberately husky voice whispered in her ear, "we were never properly introduced. I am Lieutenant Theodore Michael Groves, at your service, my lovely lady."

Charlie snickered at his acting. "Well, how do you do?" She swept into an exaggerated curtsy. "My name is Charlotte Marie Daniels, and it is an _honor_ to meet you, Lieutenant."

"Oh, I must insist that the lady call me Theodore, or Theo."

"Well, if I'm entitled to that privilege that I insist that the favor be returned. Please, call me either Charlotte or Charlie." She leaned in closer to him, "Just so ya know, I prefer Charlie. It's a lot less… grandma-y."

Theo threw his head back and laughed. "I like this one, 'Drew. Can I keep her?"

Charlie laughed, blushing, as he laced an arm through hers, pulling her close. "Hi – er, hello. I'm Charlotte Daniels." She held her right hand out to Gillette.

He took it, responding with his name.

"Theo, really, you're making a scene," James admonished, fighting the smile back.

"I'm sure the nobility are used to it by now," he said off-handedly, still holding Charlie to him. "At least I'm mostly sober right now."

James hissed and pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously still trying to forget that particular incident, while Gillette tried to stifle his merriment. Groves puffed his chest out, proud of the reaction his remark garnered, and Charlie stood awkwardly, wondering what happened.

"Okay, I give. What are you talking about?"

"Well, it was Judge Danvers' annual Christmas masquerade, and my heart had recently been broken – "

"Meaning his little fling had been engaged," Gillette added.

" – and it was a part of my duty to attend. So I soldiered through the dinner, like the good naval officer I am, while she and her intended were making doe-eyes at one another." His armed snaked around Charlie's shoulders. She spared it a glance, swearing silently that she'd bite him if he tried anything more.

"It _was_ quite horrifying," Gillette agreed, his eyes shining with delight.

"Well, the wine was free-flowing and I felt that such trauma called for a little indulgence – "

"Which means that he had roughly two bottles at dinner alone," James said with chagrin.

"Can you imagine seeing _him_, dressed as Cyrano de Bergerac, and more than a little tipsy?" Gillette demanded with the most evil light in his eyes that Charlie had ever seen.

"Will the both of you shut your yaps and allow me to tell the story?! Anyway, needless to say, I was a tad unsteady on my feet and possibly seeing triple. Some intelligent soul had felt the need to hang mistletoe in the doorway, and we all know what _that_ means. Somehow, I ended up standing beneath it with some merchant or other while my Rosie stood behind him."

"He ended up kissing this merchant – an older gentleman, with plenty of paunch to go around the town twice over, dressed as Henry VIII, and food bits stuck in his beard – while proclaiming his love for "dear, sweet Rosie", right as the girl's parents walked in the room!" Gillette said, grinning all the while. "Afterwards he commented on how soft Rosie's lips were."

Charlie laughed appreciatively.

"And then he ended up singing several… revised carols as I escorted him home. One woman threw a rotten apple at him, leaving a bruise on his forehead for a week," James wryly added, subconsciously taking pleasure in making her laugh even harder.

"I've never heard that part before!" Gillette exclaimed. "Jimmy, how could you withhold information of that magnitude? Do you not realize how invaluable that could have been while he was recovering?"

"You know, I honestly think it's a wonder they even allow you out in public after a story like that." Charlie's face lit up with her grin. While normally not exactly the time's conception of "classically pretty", that smile brought a certain _glow_ to her face that made it hard not to notice her.

"Sh! Don't give Jimmy-boy here any ideas! He might chain me to my desk," Theo stage-whispered to the blonde woman.

"That sounds rather… kinky." She raised her eyebrows suggestively, earning shocked laughter and an appalled look from James. All she could do was smile sweetly and sip more champagne.

"Although I _do _have some good blackmail material on him, so, unless he wants stories about his "wooing" of a one-legged parrot going 'round the fort, he'll leave me be," Theo said, grinning evilly and tightening his hold around her shoulders briefly.

"Whoa, wait. What?! Oh, you have to tell me this!" She was practically jumping at the chance to get dirt on the straight-laced Commodore.

"Not unless he wishes to keep his current position," James threatened, his face gone red from embarrassment.

"Alright, alright, you win, James," Groves sighed, much to Charlie's displeasure.

Gillette, however, smirked. Leaning over, he whispered, "It involves a bottle or three of my family's finest wine, a weekend rendezvous to a less-than-reputable tavern in Tortuga, and a man-dressed-as-a-woman's peg-legged pet."

Charlie choked on the champagne she'd just taken a sip of, before looking at an unhappy James Norrington and laughing until she couldn't breathe.

Needless to say she'd found two new companions and – surprisingly – had had a good night after all.

* * *

A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't updated in eons! But I've had more than a little bit going on. First, I graduated (finally!) and am now a college freshman, and taking seventeen hours (the maximum is eighteen). Secondly, my grandpa has been really sick and then he died a couple of months ago. My family is recovering, however. Thirdly, I've been doing another show ("The Music Man", for those who care). We closed at the end of July. I've started dancing again, and am loving it, and have survived Hurricane Ike – with a sprained ankle and really bad sunburn – and I've recently developed a very resistant sinus infection that could lead to seeing an ENT to have my sinus' drained.

Ain't it glamorous?

My life hasn't been my own lately, and paired with some writer's block… Well, it hasn't been easygoing.

Oh! And my internet has been down. My desktop's network card kicked the can early this fall. Joy is me.

So, I hope this nice, long chapter (that I'm not satisfied with) is enough to earn some forgiveness.

I love you all!

_G._

Okay, totally random question: What font settings do you guys use when reading on ?


	8. Teardrops On My Guitar

Hallo, my dears! How fare we this fine day in December?

Wonderful, I hope.

So, we're just diving straight in this time around. I don't really feel like expounding on my life right now (it's going very well), so I'm cutting this short.

Je t'aime!

**Disclaimer:** I am not a Disney affiliate of any kind. I am not Gore Verbinski. I am not earning money out the wazoo. Clearly, I do not own PotC or any of its characters/ plot lines; I just manipulate them to my (non-profiting) will. BUAHAHA!

* * *

"Drew talks to me, I laugh cause it's just so funny  
That I can't even see anyone when he's with me  
He says he's so in love, he's finally got it right,  
I wonder if he knows he's all I think about at night

He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar  
The only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star  
He's the song in the car I keep singing, don't know why I do" – "Teardrops On My Guitar" Taylor Swift

* * *

_**Chapter Eight: Teardrops On My Guitar**_

Jack Sparrow was not a very happy pirate, not one bit. That bloody Commodore just _had_ to do the bloody "right" thing and lock him in a bloody jail cell, with bloody twenty-four hour watch and no bloody visitors. The closest thing to a "guest" was that flea-bitten cur with the keys, cowering next to the guard.

His chances for escape looked… non-existent.

Not that that would stop him from trying. He'd gotten out of worse scrapes -.

No, never mind. Not true.

Bloody hell.

He huffed and tipped his hat over his eyes and leaned against the wall. The whole bloody place stunk of piss and sweaty, unclean bodies. It was bad enough to make Captain Jack Sparrow gag a little. With that in mind, he moved his hat to cover his nose and mouth. Funny how Tortuga's stench had little to no effect on him, but stick him in a jail cell with a quarter of Tortuga's stink and he's ready to up-chuck.

Moving on…

He didn't know how he was going to manage to escape this little cinch…

Maybe he could claim to write his last will and testament and send a message to Gibbs, or Charlie, or even the Whelp via seagull or flea-bitten cur.

Nope, that would never do. Birds are too bloody unreliable.

Maybe a sea turtle? No. Where would he get one of them?

That damn righteous Commodore had successfully cut him off from any form of help. Too bad Jack had been rooting for the man.

Sort of.

He figured Lizzie would jump in shark infested waters before marrying the stuffy man, but one never knew. And Charlie… There was a woman who could give as good as she got. Ol' Norry would have a fun time with that one. Keep 'im on his toes, so to say. _And_ she actually liked the man. (Why she did was beyond him, but hey! there's no accounting for taste.)

Frankly, Jack didn't care one way or another as long as Norrington finally loosened up enough to remove the giant stick from his arse. The man needed loving more than anyone Jack knew – besides the Whelp, that is.

Snorting, he wiggled away from the pebble digging into his back, wondering why the bloody hell he was contemplating Norrington's love life.

'_Not like it'll do the prick good either way. The man refuses to listen to someone wif experience, who knows what's what.'_ And then he came back to himself. '_Bloody hell, I'd better not die. Don't want the Squid-Man getting my soul, being hanged for high sea piracy and whatnot.'_

Had he been sitting erect, he'd have shuddered delicately.

A rustling sound came from the barred window, which Jack ignored.

The guard began shooing whatever it was away, which caught the pirate's attention.

"Shoo, ye beast!" the guard, a short, pale man, hissed. "No one wants ye mucking up the cells, now. Get!"

Removing the hat enough to glance up, Jack saw colorful plummage and a very familiar tail. "Squack! Wind in the sails!" Cotton's parrot cried, before flying off.

Jack grinned hugely, and lay back down.

Finally he could rest easy.

* * *

Charlie marched uncomfortably down the busy street, wishing she could cut herself out of her freaking corset, and then proceed to box Norrington's ears. She'd tried to get in to see Jack, but the Commodore had ordered he "be undisturbed for the duration of his visit." For God's sake, the man was going to be hanged tomorrow (a Saturday), the least James could do was let him see some people. Bloody freaking hell.

She was currently on her way to see Will. No one had seen hide nor hair of him since that day at the Swann's, when he'd helped to "teach" her to dance. Needless to say, she was worried.

Glancing up, she found the blacksmith's shop, and let herself in, quietly. If he was working with something sharp and pointy, she didn't want him to lose concentration. Will's back was turned to her, and he was hammering something – it looked like a horseshoe – to his will.

Charlie found an overturned barrel, and perched herself on it. Sympathy welled in her as she looked around the shabby shop; hay was spread lightly on the dusty floor, tools were stacked neatly on rough plank tables, a couple of rickety chairs stood next to the tables, and one held a fat, sweating, balding man upright in his alcohol-induced slumber. And then there was the poor, too-thin donkey who looked like the drunk man had beaten her into submission. Poor thing.

The sound of metal hitting metal ceased, and Charlie returned her attention to Will. He braced his arms on the table, and was slumped over. He was the very picture of defeat.

Not really knowing what else to do, Charlie slipped off the barrel and moved so she could wrap her arms around his waist. He jumped at the sudden contact, but relaxed when he realized who it was.

"It hurts, Charlie. It hurts like nothing ever has before," he murmured. "I've loved her for ten years. Ten years, Charlie! A decade of silence and loving her from a distance. And now, after I thought there was some chance of showing her and having my feelings returned, she's set to marry the Commodore."

Charlie wondered if she should tell him just _why_ Lizzie had accepted Norrington's proposal. She'd opened her mouth to do so when Will continued on.

"I honestly don't think Norrington knows how to love her properly. He's so… rigid and arrogant, and she's free and untamable. He can't possibly be what she wants. He can't make her happy."

She took a deep breath and said, "Will, he doesn't make her happy. She wants you."

He jerked away from her touch and looked at her with wide eyes. "Then why is she marrying _him_?"

"You know how the Navy was there at the Isla de Muerta? They came to rescue you because Lizzie had accepted James' proposal and begged him to do it as a wedding present. She didn't want to accept, but it was either that or have you die. Don't be angry with her, or James, it really was the only choice she had."

He stared silently at the floor taking in everything she'd just told him, and the implications of it all. He returned his smoldering eyes to hers, and demanded, "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Well for one, we haven't been alone together long enough for me to tell you everything until now, and two, I was sort of sworn to secrecy, but I thought, 'Hey, he's hurting. Screw it.' Don't be pissed at me, Will, or else you'd still be in the dark and wallowing. Don't just think about what I've told you. _Do_ _something_. Take the lead for once. Be… be… Be a freaking rock star for Pete's sake!"

He just looked confused now. "Be a what?"

"Oh, never mind," she huffed. "What I'm trying and failing to say is: Take action by yourself. Start a movement or something. Do what's right and take what belongs to you, i.e.: Lizzie's heart. Anyways, yeah. Take care, dear." She started to hug him again, but then thought better of it. Lizzie would maim her if she got sweat all over the dress. So, she pecked his cheek in a sisterly fashion before making a break for it.

Once back out in the bustling street, she didn't know what to do with herself. Going back to the governor's mansion didn't sound terribly appealing, but neither did the market, or the large gardens Port Royal had for the well-to-doers. The fort didn't sound bad, except that James was there, and she was avoiding him. So that left either the jungle (Hell No) or the beach.

She headed south towards the docks, and then east. The crowds gradually thinned until she was completely alone with the sand and the waves. After standing and watching for a few minutes, she stripped her shoes and stockings off to wade in the ankle-deep water, relishing the feel of wet, gritty sand between her toes.

'_I can't believe that I'm stuck in the 1700s, wearing a corset, crushing on a Commodore, and walking on a beach. Any normal person would be trying to figure out a way to get home… I want to go home. I want to see my mom again, and go back to teaching teenagers how to sing. I wonder why I got sent here. Is it supposed to serve some purpose, like all those time travel stories people concoct? I really want to go home!'_

After a while, Charlie just stopped thinking and enjoyed the solitude – something she was hard-pressed to find elsewhere.

When the sun began to set hours later, she began putting her discarded clothing back on and turned towards the governors' home. Since certain parts of Port Royal were very seedy at night, she did her best not to attract attention, which was rather difficult. Around the docks, the part of town the sailors frequented, the vast majority of women were whores and the vast majority of men were drunk to the point of alcohol poisoning – not exactly the safest of places for a single woman of "obvious" wealth. She stuck to the shadows and moved quickly, hoping not to make any men notice her.

Someone grabbed her arm and spun her around roughly. Her nose was assaulted with the smell of ale, sweat, urine and dirt, while her eyes were assaulted with a sallow face, missing teeth, one eye, and a broken nose. "'Allo, lovey. How much fer an hour?" the man rasped.

Her heart began hammering in her chest. Instead of answering, Charlie kneed him and ran, throwing caution to the wind. Only once the fort was in sight did she slow her pace; her racing heart took a little longer to get the memo. She was walking past Fort Charles when her name was called by a very male voice.

"Ms. Charlie, what on God's green earth are doing walking alone at night?" Theo Groves demanded, sounding very much like a mother hen.

"Oh, just returning to Swann's home after a day at the beach," she replied lightly. She caught a glimpse of two men waiting for Theo over his shoulder. "What's up?"

He looked puzzled and said, "The sky…? That's a terrible riddle, Charlie-love," while the other two men moved closer.

Charlie just shook her head. "Good evening, Commodore, Andrew. How's it going?"

The three looked at each other and asked in unison, "How's what going?"

"Why are you out so late, and without an escort, dearest? Ooh! Were you having a secret rendez-vous with your paramour?" Andrew asked giddily. He seemed on the brink of clapping his hands and bouncing around like a schoolgirl.

"Haha, no. I was down at the beach just thinking. Alone. I was _very much_ alone. Sorry to disappoint, hun."

"Oh, no. Don't you fret. I just _love_ secret trysts, is all."

"He does," Theo agreed.

"More than any man should," James smirked. "You said you were returning to Swann's? I'm heading in that direction myself. May I escort you?" He held his arm out, bent at the elbow, and staring at her intently.

"Yeah, totally. Goodnight, boys! I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow."

"Adieu, Ms. Charlotte!" the two lieutenants chorused before squabbling over which tavern they should go to. Once James and Charlie were out of earshot, Andrew said, "They make a fine pair. Much better than James and Ms. Swann."

"I concur, 'Drew. Now, how about the Giddy Goose?"

* * *

The pair strolled along the streets in a less than comfortable silence. James had seemed so intent on being alone with her, like there was something he needed to speak with her about, and here he was – not saying a word. He led her around the maze-like roads of Port Royal, taking the scenic route to the gubernatorial mansion.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, Charlie broke the silence. "Was there something you wanted to talk about, Commodore?"

He whipped his head around to look at her, not registering what she'd said. "Hm? Oh, yes. A couple of things, actually, Ms. Daniels."

"Okay, so… shoot. I'm all ears."

James looked at her curiously. "Those are very peculiar phrases." At her exasperated sigh, he continued, "Jack Sparrow is to be hung tomorrow at noon."

She scoffed, "Yeah, I'm very much aware of that."

"He _requested_ that you be told to 'keep a weather eye on the horizon.'"

"Oh… Okay…" Her brow furrowed with confusion. "I have no idea what that's supposed to mean."

"You are not alone in that respect," he said dryly. "Also… This is a personal matter, of which you are to speak of to no one. I am only coming to you because you are both honest and one of Elizabeth's closest friends. I expect nothing but the truth, the _entire_ truth, do you understand?"

"Uh… sure." '_What the hell is going on with him?!' _"What's going on with you two?" Charlie swallowed nervously, wondering what he was going to ask of her, and how she'd get out of it without hurting anyone or giving away anything.

"Is she… in love with Mr. Turner?" he asked, quietly.

'That's _pretty blunt.'_ "Well, she's been infatuated with him since they were kids. From what she's told me, the whole pirate-y, shipwrecked thing he had going was pretty nice."

"Did she only accept my proposal to save him?"

"I think that was part of it. Who lets their friend die after he tried to save your life?"

"What was another part of her reasoning?"

'_Shiiit.'_ "I honestly don't know. Lizzie doesn't really talk about it much, so I'd be lying if I told you." '_Liars go to hell, so there must be a barstool with my name on it down there.'_ She shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the palm of her free hand on her skirt; her palms were starting to sweat. Hopefully he wouldn't notice. Hopefully there wouldn't be a stain on his coat. Hopefully this interrogation would be over soon.

Their destination was in sight; now if he'd only walk faster… Maybe he'd run out of questions. Maybe she'd get a lucky break –

"Does she love me?"

'_NO!'_ "Yes." '_Like an older brother.'_

He sighed in relief. "Thank you for being so candid, Charlotte. I truly am grateful for it."

"Not a problem," she chuckled nervously, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. She took a step away from James, unwinding her arm from his. She needed some distance.

"Now, I would like to apologize for the behavior of my lieutenants, not only tonight, but also the evening of my engagement party. They have absolutely no sense of decorum, so if they offended you in any way – "

"Frankly, I thought they were hysterical. I don't mind them, really. It was nice to finally meet men with personality, however… eccentric they may be."

James winced a little at that. However innocently Charlie meant that to be, it still stung his pride. "Well, here we are." Indeed, they had reached the front door of the house. "Thank you, again. It's good to know Groves and Gillette did not offend you, Ms. Charlotte. Will you be attending tomorrow?"

Charlie sighed, "Yeah. I really don't want to, but out of respect for Jack, I'll do it."

"I shall see you then. Goodnight, Charlotte." He took her hand and kissed it before leaving her alone on the front stoop.

"'Night, James."

* * *

Okay, so there's part one. Oh, did I forget to mention that this is being split into two parts? Well, it's being split into two parts. Part two is already well underway (it's the hanging and escape). Can't wait to write it!!!

So, I'll be done with finals on Wednesday and officially on break after my Psych. test. Guess what that means…?? MORE UPDATES, just in time for Christmas/ holidays!!

Please leave feedback and comments, questions or concerns at the big, honkin' review button. Thank you.

Love,

_G._


	9. There's a Fine, Fine Line

I'm so sorry that I've been, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world. Life has really taken off, with trips to San Antonio and getting kissed for the first time, dealing with clingy boys and some family drama (it's in Florida, but still). AAAAH!!! I really hope that there are still _some_ people who are still reading. Anyways, I'm updating and working on the next couple of chapters.

It's happening!

I'm not going to make anymore updating promises; that hasn't really been working out too well.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but Charlie and the sub-plot. The movie belongs to Disney and the lyrics belong to Jeff Marx and Jeff Whitty and another composer whose name I don't remember.

Peace!

* * *

**Chapter Nine:**** There's a Fine, Fine Line**

"There's a fine, fine line  
between a fairy tale, and a lie.  
And there's a fine, fine line  
between "you're wonderful" and "goodbye".  
I guess if someone doesn't love you back  
it isn't such a crime

But there's a fine, fine line  
between love,  
and a waste of your time…" – "There's a Fine, Fine Line", Avenue Q

* * *

Charlie had been woken with the dawn that morning in order to be plucked and prodded into perfection for the hanging at noon. The maid was twittering excitedly about the chance to see such a wanted man hang for his crimes as she arranged Charlie's hair in neatly pinned curls. "He's such a notorious villain, he is, that Jack Sparrow – "

"Captain Jack Sparrow," Charlie corrected absently.

" – that I just can't wait to see justice done on 'im. Y'know, during the siege when Miss Swann was kidnapped, me sister's husband's brother got a pan in the face and had ta get _seventeen_ stitches on 'is forehead, and all because of that Jack Sparrow ."

"You know, this fascination you people have with extinguishing human life astounds me, and actually looking forward to such an atrocity is sickening. Especially when the one being hanged is a good guy deep, deep, deep down… so deep down that even he doesn't realize it. Anyway, my point is that wasting life like this is ridiculous."

The little thing floundered uncertainly for a moment before settling on working in silence while Charlie attempted to settle her stomach.

* * *

A few moments after the governor's party (comprised of the Commodore, Lizzie, Charlie, and the Governor, of course) reached the courtyard where the gallows were erected at the fort, a pair of guards dragged Jack to the noose.

The crowd booed at the pirate.

"This is wrong," Charlie said to James, as an official began reading the charges against Jack.

James couldn't look her in the eye as he replied, "The law demands it be done."

"That doesn't make anything better."

Elizabeth was having the same discussion with her father.

"- for your willful commission of crimes against the crown. Said crimes being numerous in quantity and sinister in nature, the most egregious to be cited herewith: piracy, smuggling, impersonating an officer of the Spanish Royal Navy, impersonating a cleric of the Church of England –" Jack smiled brightly, looking to share the joke with the executioner, who frowned at him. "-sailing under false colors, arson, kidnapping, looting, poaching, brigandage, pilfering, depravity, depredation, and general lawlessness. And for these crimes you have been sentenced to be, on this day, hanged by the neck until dead. May God have mercy on your soul."

Charlie noticed a feathered hat making its way through the crowd.

Will appeared, dashing in his finery, and looked directly at Lizzie after winking at the other woman in the small party. "Governor Swann, Commodore. Elizabeth – I should have told you every day from the moment I met you: I love you." He turned and left as quickly as he came, just as the noose was being slipped around Jack's neck.

Elizabeth looked up (Charlie looked too) and saw Cotton's parrot pooing on – was it Murtogg or Mullroy?

"I can't breathe," Lizzie gasped, fainting.

The drums started.

"Elizabeth!" Swann exclaimed, he and James rushing to attend her, ignoring the proceedings.

Charlie smirked and watched Will cut through the crowd. He shouted, "Move!" and shoved a few people out of his way. The drums stopped and Lizzie shot up. Will threw his sword into the trapdoor for Jack to balance on while he fought his way up to the platform of the gallows to free said pirate. He easily got past the executioner and cut the rope, back-flipped off the nasty thing and he and Jack fought their way up to the battlement where they were cornered by Norrington's men.

Of course, while all of this was going on soldiers were rushed in, citizens rushed out and it was – plainly speaking – chaos.

Charlie hadn't even noticed the Commodore slip away from them, until she saw him trying to get to Will and Jack. Norrington was standing before the two men when Swann and the two women managed their way through the forest of bayonets and rifles.

"I thought we might have to endure some ill-conceived escape attempt, but not from you," he coldly informed Will.

Swann spoke up next. "On our return to Port Royal I granted you clemency, and this is how you thank me? By throwing in your lot with him? He's a pirate!"

"And a good man!" Jack pointedly proudly to himself at that. "If all I have achieved is that the hangman will earn two pairs of boots instead of one, so be it. At least my conscience will be clear," Will declared.

"You forget your place, Turner," Norrington said, referring to more than the attempted escape. They all knew it too.

Will chose to ignore that. "It's right here, between you and Jack."

Elizabeth swallowed and moved next to the blacksmith, taking his hand. "As is mine."

Charlie watched Norrington's reaction like a hawk. His eyes lost some of their shine and his mouth tightened. The man never missed a thing. He glanced down for the briefest second, either at the ground or their entwined hands, and then right into Elizabeth's eyes.

"Elizabeth! Lower your weapons!" When the soldiers didn't immediately comply, Swann barked, "For goodness' sake! Put them down!" They obeyed.

"So this is where your heart truly lies, then?" It seemed more of a statement than anything.

Reluctantly, Lizzie nodded. She didn't want to hurt such a good, kind man. "It is," was the soft reply.

Jack actually looked abashed and disappointed for a moment, before glancing up and seeing the parrot. Immediately he perked up. "I'm actually feeling rather good about all this." Swaggering to Swann, he said, "I think we've all arrived at a very special place, eh? Spiritually? Ecumenically? Grammatically?" With every word he got closer to the governor's face, sharing his reeking breath and then he was off to Norrington. "I want you to know that I was rooting for you, mate. Know that." He sent a Look to Charlie. "Elizabeth – it would never have worked between us, darling. I'm sorry. Will… nice hat." He had backed up towards the low edge of the wall and taken the step up. "Friends! This is the day that – !" He backed up too far and tumbled over the wall and into the ocean below.

"Idiot. He has nowhere to go but back to the noose," Gillette said, sounding very snooty.

"Shut up, women's razor blade," Charlie snapped, immediately feeling awful. "Sorry, 'Drew." She saw Lizzie and Will had wasted no time in cuddling up to one another.

"Sail ho!" some random dude shouted.

Instantly, Gillette turned to his fearless leader (who was looking forlorn and broken), demanding, "What's your plan of action? Sir?"

Swann, noticing James' lack of attention and indecision, said, "Perhaps, on the rare occasion pursuing the right course demands an act of piracy, piracy itself can be the right course?"

That snapped James out of it. "Mr. Turner."

The two youngsters looked panicked for a moment, before Will consoled Lizzie and came to the Commodore.

James unsheathed the sword Will had made, holding it aloft. "This is a beautiful sword. I would expect the man who made it to show the same care and devotion in every aspect of his life."

Relieved, Will sighed a thank you and James started to walk away.

With his panties still in a wad, Gillette cried, "Commodore! What about Sparrow?"

"I think we can afford to give him _one_ day's head start," James smirked, leaving. The troops followed him away. Charlie watched the scene before her, for a moment, deciding she didn't feel like rotting her teeth from the sweetness of it all. She tailed James back to his office instead.

* * *

Groves and Gillette, as James' two right hand men, went to his office with him, exchanging significant looks behind his back as they went. Both were aware of a certain lady following them, but they said nothing of it. Surprisingly, both were in tune with Norrington's need for silence at that particular moment. Once they reached the office, however, it was a different story. James immediately went to his window that overlooked the sea. The wind had picked up and the water had become choppy. It mirrored his mood, to some extent.

"So… what do you plan to do to catch up with Sparrow?" Gillette asked, settling in one of the chairs on the other side of James' desk.

"Yes, because, as we are all aware, the _Black Pearl_ really does exist and is quite the speed demon," Groves added, leaning against a bookshelf.

James was silent.

"Well, what do you think her most likely berth will be?" Gillette said to Groves.

"Honestly, 'Drew. One would think you're new to this whole 'hunting pirates' career. What's the one place they can go freely, that's filled with disreputable taverns and whorehouses, cheap rum, and even cheaper women? Tortuga."

"I do believe you are correct, old boy. I do have one question though. How are you aware of how much rum and women cost over there?"

Theo blushed and stammered, "I-I… Never – erm… T-That is _none_ of your business, Andrew!"

"He used to make biannual trips to Tortuga when he was a private, for just those reasons," James said, showing signs of life.

Andrew looked torn between disgust and amusement.

"Be that as it may, I no longer have a need to do so anymore. Not only have I matured quite a bit, but I am courting a lovely girl who is quite easy on the eyes," Theo said imperiously.

"Meaning he's had a run in with an unpleasant rash on a certain body part," James said, mood darkening even more at the mention of courting. He turned away from the ocean and sat in his chair.

The glare Andrew sent Theo did not escape him.

He unrolled a map of the Caribbean, that he always had close to his desk, weighted the corners down with highly-polished rocks, and began figuring the quickest, most likely route to capture Sparrow.

'_Anything,_' he thought, _'anything to avoid thinking of… Elizabeth…_'

The lieutenants leapt in, offering their aid with anything he might need done. After a course was set, he sent them off with orders to have a ship prepared for sailing by dawn, marines alerted and to enjoy such a fine evening.

Then, and only then, did he allow himself to feel the loss of the woman he loved.

* * *

The lieutenants exited James' office to see Charlotte Daniels waiting against the wall opposite the door they'd just come through. They glanced at one another again and, in unison, grabbed an arm and frog-marched her out of the fort.

"Now really isn't the best time to see Jimmy, Charlie," Gillette said apologetically.

"He's torn up over what Miss Swann did to him – and how! Was the publicity of such a rejection really necessary? – and needs some time alone before he sets of to hunt Sparrow," Theo continued as they turned a corner, earning strange looks from the secretaries and military men going about their business.

"What?! When are y'all leaving?" Charlie demanded.

"Actually, I'm staying here; it's 'Drew's turn to go out to sea with Jimmy. The little adventure we just returned from was a naval emergency, and demanded both our presences. This time, only Andrew is needed as a second-in-command. I'm staying to run the fort's business."

"God help us all," Charlie muttered. "When are you leaving, Andrew?"

"Tomorrow at dawn," he grouched. "I hate such early departure times."

"Man up; this is the navy, Gillette," Theo said, sounding like he'd said it a million times before.

"I am manly enough, thank you! Really, Groves, you act like I'm a little nancy, poncy boy. I'll have you know, sir, that I am not! My father, who is an earl, raised me with appropriate levels of masculinity! The women love me, do they not, Charlotte?"

"I don't know, actually, and don't _call_ me that!"

Theo smirked victoriously. "Apparently, the ladies do not feel the need to speak of your virility, my friend. Admit it, you're a fop."

"I am no such thing!" Gillette cried, outraged.

"Says the guy with the same name as a women's hygiene product," Charlie sniggered. "Tell me, would it be alright to visit James tonight before he leaves?"

The two stopped bickering for a moment to communicate silently, before saying (in unison), "Yes, but after supper and for a short time only."

"No more than half an hour," Gillette added.

"And don't mention Miss Swann," Groves elaborated.

"How stupid do you think I am? Really! I do possess _some_ sense of tact."

They were approaching the public entrance to the fort. "James lives on Henry Street, number 6."

"He eats promptly at 7:30, and is done by eight o'clock, when he eats at home. Sometimes he takes his meals here, but I can guarantee this isn't one of those times," Theo said. "Good luck, darling. The Ponce, over here, and I have decided that we think you and James make a better match than he and Miss Swann do."

"It's true, and I am not a ponce!" Gillette exclaimed.

"Thank you, boys. Bye, Andrew! Be safe, you hear me? I want you to come back in one piece," Charlie said, hugging the lieutenant.

"Goodbye, dear." He kissed her knuckles with a wink and stalked away from his friend.

"Good day, Charlie." Groves actually kissed her cheek before hurrying off to torment poor Gillette some more.

* * *

So, there's the end of that. Next chapter: the house call, good ol' fashioned TLC, and some more drama.

I really do hope some of you are still reading this. If you are, go check out the poll I made for this story. I need y'alls opinions about where this should go… and soon!

There are a couple different ways I could have this go, and I like them all for different reasons. So… it's officially the reader's choice ending!

Vote and review, please!

G.


	10. With You

Yo, guys! Yes, this is for real. Another update in less than a week! WOOT!

**Luthien Saralonde**,** Stella Cosmopolita **and** Whatever Makes You Break** - Can I just say that I adore you three? Thank you guys so much for making my day with your wonderful, seat-kickin' reviews. I needed that.

Anyways, the **Disclaimer:** I own nothing but Charlie, the sub-plot and some awesome Florida Gators Converse. Don't sue me. Pippin belongs to Stephen Sondheim.

Heigh ho, Silver!

* * *

"And time weaves ribbons of memory  
To sweeten life when youth is through  
But I would need no memories there  
If I could share  
My life with you." - "With You", Pippin

* * *

After James returned home that evening - after putting the inevitable return off for as long as he could - the only thing that filled his mind was Elizabeth.

Her warm brown eyes - filled with pity and the slightest bit of either regret or disgust - haunted him. He couldn't get them out of his mind's eye, no matter how many other things he tried to distract himself with. To be quite honest, he didn't really want any distractions. All he wanted was to wallow, to allow his heart to break and then slowly begin to heal... in private. _'Therein lies the rub_,' he thought. '_I am the commodore of this naval base. There is no such thing as privacy_.'

Maybe... if he had just one drink... Maybe the pain would ease up a bit...

No.

He would not allow himself to sink to that. For God's sake, he'd only lost the woman he loved mere hours ago! And to an apprentice blacksmith, no less._ 'And cue the bitterness_.'

He had managed to barricade himself in his study with the plate of food Cook had left covered by the oven before she left, only to realize he wasn't hungry. He stared down at the pork loin and potatoes with no interest in consuming the delicious meal; he was too heartsick. And his stomach was roiling, like he'd just survived his first storm at sea all over again. No, food was not a good idea at the moment... Instead, he pushed a couple of potato chunks around the plate absently.

A knock sounded at the door, and he didn't register it. The bigger potato slice was about to sink the smaller one in his imagined naval combat, when the knock came again but louder. The noise jarred him out of his spud-fight and into action. He was up and opening the front door before his mind caught up with him.

"Miss Daniels," James said, shocked to see the young lady standing on his doorstep.

"Commodore. How are you?" Her hazel eyes - turned green, for some reason - reflected the concern in her voice.

Stiffly, he replied, "Shouldn't you be celebrating Miss Swann's new engagement?"

"I've already given my congratulations. I... I just wanted to make sure you weren't turning suicidal and anti-social on me," she said frankly. It was almost atrocious, really. Somehow, though, James managed to find it refreshing.

He scoffed at her words, showing his feelings toward suicide. "I honestly can't believe that you think I would sink so low as to even contemplate that." He stepped aside to let her into the foyer of his home and took her shawl. "Miss Daniels, that is the cowards way out, and I am no coward."

"Heartbreak does funny things to people," she replied simply.

James merely nodded and led the way to his study, where he lit a fire and offered her some sherry (Charlie declined). As he sat across from her, he zeroed in on her hazel (still mostly green) eyes. Hazel, not brown. But still warm. Maybe she did care.

"So..." she started. "A pair of mischievous birdies told me that you're leaving to hunt Jack tomorrow morning."

"Yes."

"Okay."

Silence descended between the pair.

"How long do you expect to be gone?"

He sighed, contemplating the answer. "Until I'm needed elsewhere, I suppose, or until I catch the bastard."

"Oh," she breathed, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. A loose curl fell from her up-do to rest atop her collar bone. James couldn't help but to admire the contrast in colors.

Elizabeth had dark, warm hair and beautifully creamy skin before her little stint at sea... Now her hair had lightened a shade, and her skin was just the tiniest bit darker. Would everything remind him of her? Would this hell never end?

James groaned and surrendered to the need for a glass of whiskey. He stalked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself two fingers of the stuff, knocking it back in one go. He poured another that he took his time with. "Why do you look so disappointed, Miss Daniels? Don't tell me that you'll be missing my pleasant repartee and jolly company," he said bitingly.

"Actually, I will. And don't call me 'Miss Daniels' unless you want me to call you something equally unpleasant in return."

He smirked into his glass. "Such as?"

She smirked right back, arching her eyebrows. "Sunshine."

Immediately, his smile disappeared and was replaced with a nasty glare. "You wouldn't dare, Miss Daniels."

"Oh, but I do dare, Sunshine. I do." Charlie grinned at him triumphantly. "Just you wait. One day, you'll slip and call me _that_ in public, and I'll call you 'Sunshine' in front of Theo and Andrew and then you'll never live it down. In fact, it might just catch on with the entire fort - the whole town! - and then you'll be wishing you'd listened to me."

And just like that, his sour mood was back. "Don't remind me..." he muttered towards the fire.

Charlotte cocked her head to the side, genuinely ignorant of what she'd gone and reminded him of. "Of what, James?"

He glanced at her contemplatively, trying to decide whether or not he should let her in on his emotions, even for the tiniest fraction of a second. Apparently, she had a penchant for getting a hold of something and not letting go. He sighed.

"Don't remind you of what, James? You can trust me, I swear." Her face was earnest, her eyes pleading.

He heaved another heavy sigh, saying grudgingly, "The entire town will know of my rejection, humiliation and heartbreak before tomorrow evening. I don't know how well I'll hold up under such attention. The matchmaking-mamas will be after me to marry their daughters, or nieces, or aunt's spinster, shrinking violet cousins. And I'll never have a moment to myself again due to all the teas I'll be obligated to attend. It will never end!" (_The sub-text of this rant is: 'I'll never have a moment to myself to mourn my ex-fiancée's abandonment and eventually begin to heal.'_)

"Yes it will. Right after you marry the shrinking violet cousin. And we all know you need a woman who can handle herself in almost any situation with grace and ease. None of those society-slaves fit the bill. Do you want me to get a bat and forcibly keep them off of you? Because I will if you do. It'll be epic. And, actually, beneficial to both of us."

"Yes, until you are hauled away to an asylum. Then you'll be trapped with loonies, and I'll be stuck trying to ward off those unwanted women," he responded dryly.

"There's always a downside, my dear Watson."

A comfortable silence engulfed the pair this time. James stared into the roaring fire on the hearth, finally allowing his mind to relax a fraction, sipping his whiskey. Charlie's gaze wandered around the room, always returning to him, no matter how hard she tried to stop it from happening. Her attraction to him was increasing exponentially, and we all know it's never a good thing to be attracted to someone who's recovering from a broken heart no matter what stage in the healing process they're at.

He began rehashing their previous conversation in his mind, as he was wont to do, when he noticed something puzzling she had said. James took another sip of his whiskey, asking, "Charlotte, what did you mean when you said it would be 'beneficial to both of us'?"

"Huh? What would be beneficial to both of us?" she asked intelligently, zeroing in on his face again.

"You were jesting about warding women off of me with a bat when you said that. What did you mean by it?"

"Nothing. I don't know what you're talking about." She looked away from him, blushing, and pursed her lips just the tiniest bit. If he hadn't been watching her reaction so intently, he'd assume it was from the heat of the fire. Now he was really curious.

"Don't lie to me, Ms. Daniels. Your really not all that good at controlling your reactions."

"I'm not lying!" she exclaimed. "And don't call me that! What have I told you?"

"Charlotte, I'm not going to give this up. Just tell me what you meant by that statement. It can't be so dreadful, could it?"

"Oh, you don't know what you're getting into. I'm just as stubborn as you, Sunshine, and I'm more than willing to prove it." Her hazel eyes narrowed at him, and the blush had only deepened. James had to admit, she looked quite amusing at the moment - like she was ready to spit fire. He couldn't resist the urge to chuckle.

The warm, jolly sound resonating from his throat delighted Charlie. She was glad that whatever it was she was doing had managed to distract him from his wallowing. Too bad she was getting pissed at the lovely man, and that he'd sink back into his depression and over-analyzing of the days events after she left.

"Don't laugh at me, Sunshine. I'll make you disappear, man. I've got an uncle with connections," she said, trying (and failing) to sound intimidating.

James stopped, confused by her choice of words. "I beg your pardon?"

"Pardon granted."

"What does that phrase mean?"

"The uncle thing? It means I have an uncle - actually, he's more like my uncle's best friend who is practically family - with friends and a cousin in the Mafia, and this 'uncle' has a friend in the Russian Mafia in New York." She shrugged. "It's not like any of my family's mobbed up; we're not Italian... or Russian."

"I see... and this 'Mafia' is what, exactly?"

"A group of several families who are involved in a lot of illegal activity. Very under-the-radar - everyone knows they're there, but they don't really know how or what they're doing - stuff. The two biggest are the Italian and Russian."

"I should alert the Admiral - "

"Don't worry; the Italian Mafia wasn't formed until the eighteen hundreds. That's a while away, yet." (A/N: At least according to my Googling.)

He 'hm'ed noncommittally. "So, Charlotte, what did you mean about keeping the hounds away being beneficial?" James asked, nonchalantly.

"Nothing! My God, just let it go already!" she cried desperately.

"I would, except that I'm rather intrigued by it. Just tell me and I'll change the subject." He leant back in his chair, cupping his glass in both hands to warm it. He had one leg crossed over the other, and his posture had finally relaxed. How could she deny a man - especially him - anything when he looked like that, when he looked at her - like she held the key to solving a huge mystery that had been plaguing him - that way?

Sighing she stood to walk pace the room for a moment and his eyes followed her, hungry for the answer. She stopped walking on the other side of the sofa, gazing at the doors longingly. "I think I'm going to head back to the governor's home, now. It's been a long day - for both of us."

His breath whooshed out and he stood to walk her to the door. James helped her into her shawl (it seemed awfully intimate to Charlie's raging imagination) and opened the front door to see her out. "Do you need an escort back? It's not safe to walk alone at night, even here and especially for a single woman."

"It's sweet that you're worried, but I'll be fine. It's not like you live far away. Anyway, goodnight James." She smiled at him before walking down the three steps that led up to his front door. "Oh, just so you know: what I meant was that I'm ridiculously attracted to you, have been since we met, and I'm not too fond of the idea of you falling for someone else. Come back safely, alright? Goodnight, and God bless," Charlie rambled, turning as red as a tomato.

She turned and hurried down the walk and onto the street, quickly disappearing from view and leaving James completely and utterly speechless.

* * *

A/N: I know, I know. It's hurried and not thought out, but... It's what happened, and I don't really want to change it. Actually, I kind of like the possibilities this could lead to. Hmm... The evil wheels are turning....

Anyway, my Word program isn't working so I did this in Notepad (which I HATE), so please forgive any errors or weird formatting stuff. I tried to catch it all, but you never know...

So... I'm not a blonde anymore. I know have dark brown/ reddish hair. It's pretty awesome. I look like I'm related to my mother now instead of my dad's baby sister. Everybody I meet when family and family friends come to town says that I must be Susan's daughter, and I'm like, 'No, I'm Angie's.' And then they laugh and say, 'Yeah, right.'

Whatever.

I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE ELTON JOHN AND BILLY JOEL TOMORROW NIGHT!!! AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

G.


	11. Stay Awake

Okay, so now I have my laptop back and fully functioning (it's where I have everything saved, and the battery and charger died), I'm home from my road trip to Paris, Texas, and ready to write! This is going to be a fairly short transition chapter into "Dead Man's Chest." Don't shoot me! The real action starts in the following two chapters – which I have written out in my handy dandy notebook.

Anyway, this chapter is going to half belong to Charlie – on getting her out of Port Royal so we can continue with what I've got already written up – and half belong to James and my take of how he winds up in Tortuga. As I said, it's very much a transition chapter.

**Stella Cosmopolita** – Good luck on your exams! I'm so jealous of you, getting to study across the pond! Where have you been going? Anyway, to answer your question about the lovely town of Paris – there's nothing to do! They have a bowling alley, about a billion antiques stores, a movie theater, and an Eiffel Tower with a grody red cowboy hat on top. I have pictures of this atrocity. Oh, they also have a haunted cemetery. I know, I know – but I swear to God and all that is holy that my friend and I met a ghost. Moving on, here's the chapter you asked for! Good luck again!

So, everybody, if you haven't heard this song yet, go YouTube it and tell me how insanely appropriate it is for Norrington. It's almost scary.

Oh, **Pickles** (if you're still reading this), James isn't in love with Charlie. He's more intrigued by this loud-mouthed, semi-crass American chick (who just so happens to have a huge crush on him). All the ladies he's met are prim and proper society girls born with the goal of being the perfect wife – with the exception of Lizzie. So, Charlie's attitude is fascinating to him. His rejection is still too fresh; he's not over her yet; he's getting to be a bitter man because of it, and… We all know what happens. Once he's accepted that Lizzie made the right choice and sees what's been in front of him all along – then things will get better.

* * *

_**Chapter Eleven: Stay Awake **_

"Stay awake, get a grip and get out.

You're safe from the weight of the world.  
Just take a second to set things straight.  
I'll be fine, even though I'm not always right.  
I can count on the sun to shine;  
the dedication takes a lifetime,  
but dreams only last for a night." - "Stay Awake (Dreams Only Last for a Night)" by All Time Low

* * *

Four months after James had left with Gillette and still no word. Groves had, of course, received letters stating the ship's location and the state of affairs on board and with their mission, but all of that was classified information – for the Board of Admirals of the Caribbean and the governor's eyes only. Swann was, of course, unable to speak of the letter's contents; he might have hinted at some of the more innocent things in the letters, such as the date and location they were sent from. He couldn't bear seeing his daughter and (practically) surrogate daughter worry themselves sick over James Norrington.

Neither Swann nor Elizabeth nor Charlie had received any personal mail from him, or Gillette, who wrote to Groves quite often. Naturally, he was quite whiny about the conditions on board and the state of some of the ports they had traced Jack to and the weather and the food and everything else he could think of. Charlie had penned a short reply to one of his letters, when she was visiting Groves for tea one afternoon, asking why he'd bothered joining the Navy if he hated being on a ship and telling him she was only joking and that he and the crew were in her prayers.

And she did pray. Every night before she went to bed and every morning when she woke up. She attended church on Sundays with the Swanns and Will, Wednesday services she went to alone, always keeping James and Gillette, and even Jack and the _Pearl_, in the forefront of her mind. Charlie wanted nothing bad happening to any of her boys… men. Whatever.

Elizabeth was running around like a headless chicken, planning and arranging her and Will's wedding. She wanted it to be perfect – and to shut the gossipmongers up, she was having a six month engagement – down to the last flower petal. The girl seemed to float when she walked, she was so deliriously happy. Now that it was two months – really, it was six weeks – before the wedding and the chaos was steadily snowballing.

The dress was being worked on in all of its ivory silk, pearl strewn glory, the little straw tiara (because it was all the rage at this point in time; frankly, the fascination made no sense to Charlie) with pearls and gilt gold flowers was being handmade by a lady on the other side of the island, and Will was making the one-of-a-kind wedding bands himself (a matching pair, so everyone would know who the other belonged to). The groom's suit was at the tailor's. The pre-ceremony brunch – a tradition in this century, Charlie discovered – was being held in a garden overlooking the sea, with the ceremony itself taking place closer to the water. As the brunch was for close friends and family only (consisting of the reverend, Charlie, Groves, Swann, the couple, and Admiral Blakely and his wife – some of the governor's dear friends), Elizabeth was using her mother's antique gold-edged china. There was to be a string quartet, dancing at the reception – still outside – and perfect weather.

A month before the wedding, James returned on a merchant vessel looking like a shadow of his former self. He was no longer with clean-shaven, hygienic individual he'd been when he left. He had stubble now; he was gaunt and had purple bags underneath his cold, haunted green eyes. James looked like a man who'd felt more sorrow than anyone should have to bear witness too. He went straight for the fort and requested an audience with the Board of Admirals as soon as humanly possible.

Groves found Charlie wandering Swann's gardens after James had arrived and told her that he was back. He also warned her against going to see his broken friend.

"Charlotte, James is… I hate saying this, dear, but he's in no condition to see anyone right now. I highly doubt he wants any company." '_Besides a bottle or two of whiskey.'_ "I'm sorry; I know how much you want to go to him."

"Then let me. I'll deal with the repercussions myself. I'm a big girl and I can handle it," she argued, desperate to see James and offer any comfort she could for him.

"Look, Charlotte," Theo said, tone suddenly sharp. "If you go see him now, your relationship will never recover. He is lashing out at everyone and everything. Andrew is dead. Dead! We are both in mourning for our friend and he does not need you bumbling in, in all of your clumsy, charming glory, spouting declarations of love. He does not need it, or want it right now."

Charlie sat stunned on a bench, merely blinking in shock at Theo for several seconds, before starting to cry over poor, ridiculous Gillette. Theo sat beside her and wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders, blinking his own tears away. He would mourn his best friend later, in private. She took in a deep breath several moments later and replied, "Alright, I understand. I wouldn't want to intrude on him." Charlie wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. "How are you holding up, Theo?"

He smiled weakly, "I'll be fine. Don't your fret, dear."

They sat curled up together for several moments in a contemplative, comfortable silence. A butterfly fluttered from flower to flower while a spider built its web between a low-hanging tree branch and a fence post, the sun glinting off of the gossamer threads. The world seemed too serene, too peaceful for such awful news.

"Charlotte, I don't really know how to bring this up smoothly…." Theo said hesitantly. The hand grasping her upper arm twitched anxiously.

"Just tell me. Today's the day for bad news, so just say it."

"There are several things I must enlighten you to. James is probably going to lose his commission for his brash actions these past months; I can't tell you what happened. Know that a force of nature came upon them and he chose wrongly. If he feels you should be privy to this information he'll tell you, I have no doubts."

"Oh my God," the blond gasped, hand going to her little crystal cross.

"There's more," Theo stated. His voice was flat and detached, but his eyes and the tight set of his mouth gave signs as to how unhappily anxious he truly was. "Lord Cutler Beckett is coming to Port Royal, and he's bringing the East India Trading Company with him."

Charlie stared at him blankly. "Okay, so what?"

"It amazes me just how naïve you are here. Lord Beckett is currently in control of the EITC, and he has the King's favor, as well as an almost ludicrous number of powerful allies. He is coming here to restore order to the seas and to take control of Port Royal."

"Why does he want Port Royal? Theo, this isn't making sense," Charlie stated, annoyed that she couldn't put the puzzle pieces together for herself.

"Port Royal is the largest English colony in these parts of the world. We are also the largest naval outpost. He wants to take over command of the fort, thereby gaining control of the justice system and the ships' officers. He's going to become the law of Port Royal and the sea once he has the Navy at his beck and call."

"Okay, that's bad. That's really, really bad." Her eyes were wide in fear of the power one man could hold. "Why is he coming out here? Things aren't that disorderly."

"Because the Admirals sent word to the King that the pirate population, while dwindling, wasn't wiped out just yet. Soon, they'll being informing England that James failed as a leader and that he didn't do his job properly. All of that is an indication that the situation in the Caribbean is getting out of hand. Enter Lord Cutler Beckett, the King's new pet and quite the ruthless human being. He's bringing warrants of arrest and execution with him."

"Whose?"

"Jack Sparrow, James Norrington, Elizabeth Swann, Will Turner, and Charlotte Daniels. Those are only five of the warrants he's bringing." Theo looked at her sadly. "Beckett wants to arrest you all for conspiring with a known pirate, helping said pirate to escape, and for engaging in acts of piracy."

Charlie felt a chill go up her spine, like someone had just walked over her grave. That thought sent another shiver running and then another and another, until she couldn't stop shaking. Her heart was pounding. '_I don't want to die. I don't want any of us to die. …What happens if I die here? Is all of me here, or is part of me still home? If part of me is still home, what's happening? If I die by hanging here, will it show my neck broke at home? I really don't want to die…'_ Death, she reasoned, was final, regardless of possibly inhabiting two planes of existence at once. And God knows she didn't want to die. "Theo, what do I do? I don't want to die, and, if this Beckett dude is as bad as you make him out to be, it doesn't sound like there'll be any deal I can make to stay alive."

"Leave Port Royal. Don't tell me where you plan to go. Get on a boat under a false name and sail away. Take enough money for passage and some food when you arrive at your destination. Don't choose someplace obvious, such as the Thirteen Colonies. Go someplace where it will be difficult to find you, and do everything you can to blend in. He arrives in a month." He stared hard at her, grasping her hands now, to reinforce all he was saying. Theo didn't want another friend to fall from grace and die. He'd had more than enough. "The farther gone you are by then, the better hidden you are, the more difficult it will be to find you."

"Okay, I will… Will… I need to tell Lizzie and Will!" Charlie got up and started running back towards the house, only to be caught by Groves.

"You mustn't. Tell them you're leaving and why, but do not tell them I was the one who told you. If anyone found out, it would be a noose around my neck."

"I won't, I swear." He released her and she sprinted into the house.

Charlie warned the lovebirds, but the words didn't penetrate as a threat. Their minds were too full of the wedding, and the wedding night, to really pay attention. Charlie informed them she was leaving, packed her clothes from her time, a couple of plain dresses, some food and money, and then she was off to the docks to buy passage.

She found a smaller boat taking on passengers that would be stopping in her least favorite place of all, which is where she decided to disembark: Tortuga.

The ship left that night.

* * *

James Norrington didn't know how he managed to stand straight through the meeting with the Admirals while being stripped of his rank and commission, but he did. It was possibly the most humiliating thing to ever happen to him. (Naturally, it was battling for most embarrassing with Elizabeth's very public rejection.) His entire world had crumbled in the span of mere months.

His fiancée – whom he loved more than just about anything – ended to engagement to marry a blacksmith instead. He went off to chase a pirate, who was in cahoots with Lady Luck, around the world. Said pirate always managed to evade pursuit right when James thought success was his. He chased this pirate to the around Africa to the Indian Sea to Singapore, where Sparrow disappeared from sight. James and his men traced him to the southern part of Africa, docking in Namibia to be exact, and then chased him north along the coast to the Mediterranean and Tripoli. When Sparrow was leaving Tripoli, a hurricane struck and James, being the stubbornly determined man he was, had his men try to sail through the storm.

When the storm had moved on, he washed up on the shore and found a merchant vessel going to the Caribbean and bought passage.

That was months ago.

He knew what awaited him once he returned to Port Royal, but he came back to face the humiliation rather than suffer the indignity that would accompany deserting. He worked with the crew on the merchant vessel, making a point to expend all of his energy and to stay busy during the day so he wouldn't be able to think about all of his shortcomings as a commodore and a man. Exhaustion didn't stop the dreams though…

So, he took up drinking. At first it was only a little, but by the time they'd reached unclaimed waters, his drinking had escalated. The captain had threatened to lock him in the brig if he got so disorderly again. Needless to say, James had backed off of the drink. It didn't stop the yearning for alcohol-induced oblivion though.

When he'd been on his way to the fort, he'd had to pass through the shopping district where he saw William Turner and Elizabeth – _his_ Elizabeth – exiting the milliner's together, laughing and holding hands and looking so _in love_. Seeing that physically hurt him. James decided then that after the Admirals finished ripping his hide to shreds, he was going to get more than drunk.

They took his sword, the one symbol of pride and dignity left to him. They took it and placed it back in the box he had taken it from a year ago on the day of his promotion to Commodore.

He wound up at The Ball and Chain – a disreputable pub in the less than disreputable part of town – and did just that. He was woken by having buckets of icy water thrown on him, while on the floor of the stables, his head just inches from horse droppings.

It was then that he decided he could no longer stay in Port Royal and evade having his name dragged through more mud, as well as escape. He had to leave. He had to get away to someplace that wouldn't know him, or care that he was a navy man fallen from grace. The only place he could think of was Tortuga, the disgusting hellhole of a pirate port that he'd sworn never to set foot in.

The next ship going anywhere near there was scheduled to arrive in a week and leave in another, so he'd wait. It wasn't a passenger ship, so he'd have to work as a common sailor. That was perfectly fine by him.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with working oneself to the brink of collapse. Maybe working so hard would kill him. At this point death would be welcomed.

* * *

A/N: Yes, I know that James is acting all emo and mopey. Do ya really blame the guy? Poor honeybuns…

Anyways, I don't really like it, but most of it was written at 2 A.M. Let me know what you think!

So, Elton John and Billy Joel were _**AMAZING**_. One of the best shows I've ever seen. And then mom and I went to see "Rent" with Anthony Rapp (who's child I would love to carry) and Adam Pascal. WE GOT TO MOOOOOOO WITH MAUREEN!!! Best. Night. EVER!

I've finished my first year of college, am looking for a job (Good talk, no one's hiring.), getting ready to take classes over the summer (to cut down my load for next year) and start voice lessons again, as well as audition for a community theater production of "Rent." ISN'T IT EXCITING?!?!?!?!

Okay, that's out of my system.

**Seriously, people, go take the poll on my profile so I know which ending you like best. **I'll be more than happy to write any of them. I like them all but for different reasons and I can't make up my mind. Help me do it!

Happy fanficcing, duckies!

_G._


	12. All Shall Fade

Wow, two chapters in one week. Bet y'all didn't see that one coming. Anyway, as promised, we are now entering Dead Man's Chest territory. Exciting, eh? I concur. Anyway, I pretty much have all of DMC written out. One more chapter to be written, possibly some transition chapters and we're in AWE. And then... who knows?

Anywho... I still own nothing. All of this belongs to the Mouse - except the song. That belongs to Peter Jackson and whoever has the rights to it (not me).

* * *

_**Chapter Twelve: All Shall Fade**_

"Home is behind the world ahead  
And there are many paths to tread  
Through shadow to the edge of night  
Until the stars are all alight.

Mist and shadow  
Cloud and shade  
All shall fade  
All shall fade." - "Pippin's Song", Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers"

* * *

"…_All shall fade, all shall fade,_" he heard as he walked into The Faithful Bride. He needed a drink desperately. Ever since the hurricane, since he lost his commission, drink had been the only way to ease the pain. While that lessened, he just couldn't forget. No, former-Commodore James Norrington could never forget.

Norrington glanced around the bar and picked his way across the room to the counter. A vaguely familiar woman bustled up behind it, fanning her flushed face.

"Quite the insistent lot we 'ave tonight, eh love? What may I get ye?" She pulled out a mug and wiped it down with her apron. She made eye contact with him, her own eyes widening almost imperceptibly. Either he didn't notice her reaction to the sight of him, or he just didn't care.

"Rum, and plenty of it," Norrington said in clipped tones.

"Alrigh', hold on just a mo'. What the hell are you doing here, Jims?" He just looked at the brunette so oddly that she blushed and bent over a barrel to filled the tankard. "'Ere ye are, love. If ye don' mind me sayin'… you look a fright. Girl trouble, maybe? I know enough about broken 'earts to help ye."

"I'd thank you, madam, to leave me in peace with my drink." His brow was furrowed as he took a large swallow of the substance.

"Aye. Well, should ye need anything, just shout for me, savvy?" The thin brunette moved off to serve other customers.

'_I hate speaking such butchered English,_' Charlie thought. '_And good Lord above do I hate dresses! I can't believe I chose to hide here… in Tortuga! At least Will protected my virtue last time… And Jack believed my story. But that could be because he's crazy, so it's not much comfort. And I had to dye my hair! That's probably one of the worst parts of this entire misadventure.'_

She continued filling orders and keeping an eye on the man with the ruined wig and tattered blue coat. Sure, he was surly, but he was hurting and completely clueless about how to deal. Her offer was sincere and… Was that…? Charlie handed the last mugs to a couple of guys with the worst B.O. ever and she put the tray on the counter before hurrying over to investigate.

"Gibbs? Oh my God! Gibbs!" she squealed, throwing her arms around him. "Damn is it good to see you! This corset is killing me. And Jack!" She bent over and hugged the other man tightly. "Jack and Gibbs. Oh, I love you two right now! Wait…" Charlie kicked Jack's shin sharply, causing Mr. Gibbs to guffaw.

"Bloody 'ell, luv! What was that fer?" the younger of the two men shouted, clutching his wounded leg.

"For leaving me here in a skirt, corset, and having to act uneducated in a place where rape and murder aren't considered crimes! But no, you knew I was here and dying to get away two months ago, so why didn't you take me with you?! But, I am happy to see you again. Let me get you two some drinks, on me tonight, loves!"

"Its good teh see someone beat sense inta the captain again, girl," Gibbs said, still chortling.

Charlie grinned and sashayed away, unaware that Norrington had been watching the entire exchange.

When she returned to the bar, he asked, "How are _you_ acquainted with _Jack Sparrow_?"

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow," she muttered under her breath. Aloud she said, "I owe him and his first mate quite a bit for saving my life. Shit! Oops… Another drink for ye?" she tried, realizing too late that her speech became that of an educated woman instead of a Tortugan.

Norrington smirked. "You're a pirate."

"Hardly, but you're surrounded by abusive, murderous, rapacious men who would quickly turn to piracy – excludin' meself. Isn't that just as wrong?" Charlie replaced his empty tankard with a full one before taking two more to her friends. She didn't realize she'd left the bottle of rum sitting next to him on the counter.

She shoved past four men gathered around the table Gibbs had set up to give them their rum. Gibbs nodded to her when she placed his in front of him. Jack was in a corner messing with his compass, muttering, "I know what I want" over and over again.

"Jack, dearest, I bring spirits!" she announced, disregarding his odder-than-usual behavior.

"Finally. 'Ello luv. Do ye know just 'ow much I - ?"

"Save it, Jack. You just missed me getting your rum for you, especially after Anamaria left. Having a girl around made things seem… as normal as it ever gets with you," Charlie teased. "Just a warning: James is here and completely wasted."

"Aye, but that's not too much to worry about," he grinned, downing half of his drink. "Wot are ye doin' standin' up, girl? Sit!" Jack tugged Charlie into his lap. "How are we doing?" he said to Gibbs.

"Includin' those four? That gives us… four!" Turning back to the man before him, he asked (completely insincere), "And what's your story?"

"My story?" Gibbs nodded. "It's exactly the same as your story, just one chapter behind. I chased a man across the seven seas." Jack shoved Charlie off of him, closed the compass, and looked around for a place to hide. "The pursuit cost me my crew, my commission, and my life." He grabbed the bottle of rum from the table and took a swig.

"Commodore?" Gibbs asked, cautiously.

Charlie shook her head, thinking, '_Brash, Sunshine_.' Jack tore off a branch of a potted plant and held it in front of himself as he tried to make his escape.

"No, not anymore! Weren't you _listening_?" the man from earlier asked, clearly annoyed. "I nearly had you all off of Tripoli. I would've, if not for the hurricane."

"Lord," Gibbs muttered. "Ye didn't try to sail through it?"

Norrington wasn't listening. Instead, he was talking to Jack. "So do I make your crew or not? You haven't said where you're going. Somewhere nice?!" In a fit of rage, he overturned the table in front of Gibbs, causing the old man to fall off his stool and to the floor. Charlie helped him stand. "So am I _worthy_ to sail under Captain Jack Sparrow? Or should I kill you now?" Norrington shouted, pointing his pistol at Jack.

Jack darted behind a support beam, and peaked out one side and then the other. Norrington kept his gun trained on the beaded and braided pirate captain. "You're hired."

Norrington cocked the pistol and smirked. "Sorry, old habits and all that."

Two men shoved Norrington's arm up before he shot ("Easy, sailor!"), causing the bullet to ricochet off one of the light fixtures, breaking one drunk's bottle of rum. All Hell broke loose then.

Charlie had moved to a place by the door, watching as Jack and Gibbs picked their way to the staircase, Jack taking hats, trying them on and then placing them on someone else's head.

Shaking her head in amusement, she walked outside and above the pigpen to her "room". She quickly pulled her dress and corset off and her jeans, purple tank top, and brown leather jacket on. Her Converse were already on her feet. Once she was in front of the pigsty, her wild hair was thrown into a messy ponytail.

Norrington was tossed unceremoniously into the stall by several men. The crowd dispersed, laughing raucously and going back inside to get even drunker.

Charlie knelt by the poor thing and struggled to help him up. "Oh, Mr. Norrington…"

"What's become of you?" a soft voice asked, before two more hands appeared on his other side. "Oh!"

"Lizzie?"

"Who are yo- ? Charlie?! Oh my goodness, it's good to see you! What are you doing here? What did you do to your _hair_?! Oh, never mind. We can catch up later! Help me with James, please. Where should we take him?" Elizabeth said all of this rapidly, so Charlie's head was spinning slightly.

"To the _Black Pearl._ He's been hired by Jack just now. She's docked… somewhere… Holy Lord, he smells awful… Let's pour some water on him! Pig muck isn't the most popular of colognes right now…" Charlie grunted.

"No time," Elizabeth said.

"Alright," she conceded.

James decided to come to just then, coughing and then vomiting. The two women backed away and Charlie desperately wanted to relieve him of the god-awful wig. Elizabeth walked around the former-Commodore to Charlie's side. Her face was blocked by a hat and her hair was braided and wrapped with black cloth. She too was in men's clothes.

"Told you we should have doused him in water. The smell is too strong, thus triggering the barfing," Charlie grinned.

Elizabeth looked amused and Norrington groaned, "Not you."

"Sorry, love. You'll live, even if it doesn't feel like you will, I promise. Come on, to the docks, people!"

* * *

After being prevented from pushing James in the water the trio found the _Black Pearl_ was ready to face the open sea again, even if her captain was a bit nervous about it.

"Captain Sparrow!" Lizzie called out to him, leading the way down the dock.

Jack half glanced back over his shoulder. "Come to join me crew, lad? Welcome aboard."

"I've come to find the man I love." Her voice was tinged with dark humor. Charlie snorted in laughter.

Jack froze mid-step and his back tensed up. Charlie could just see him trying figure out when he'd been drunk enough to sleep with a boy. "I'm deeply flattered, son, but my first and only love is the sea." It had the sound of being used a thousand times but with nervousness and disgust running as deep undertones.

Norrington spewed vomit onto the side of someone's ship, balancing himself against a stack of crates and barrels. Charlie went to rub his back, hoping to make the poor man feel better.

"Meaning William Turner, Captain Sparrow," Lizzie said, holding the laughter in; she seemed a little peeved that Jack didn't recognize her right off the bat.

Jack turned to face them fully. "Elizabeth!" He turned back to Gibbs and said in a low voice, "Hide the rum."

"We can still hear you, Jack," Charlie called.

The pirate had now turned the charm on big time, facing Lizzie again. "You know, these clothes don't flatter you at all. It should be a dress or nothing. I happen to have no dress in my cabin…"

Charlie rolled her eyes in sync with James, who was still clutching the crates to stand upright.

"Jack, I know Will came to find you. Where is he?" Elizabeth asked.

"Darling, I am truly unhappy to have to tell you this, but through an unfortunate and entirely unforeseeable series of circumstances that had nothing whatsoever to do with me, poor Will has been press-ganged into Davy Jones's crew," said Jack. Charlie saw through his lie.

"Davy Jones?" Lizzie asked in unison Charlie. Norrington vomited again. Jack just nodded, trying to look concerned and worried but really gauging Lizzie's reaction to this news.

"Oh please! The captain of the _Flying Dutchman_?" Norrington said, panting and leaning on Charlie, holding her left shoulder to keep steady.

"You look bloody awful. What are you doing here?" Jack demanded, wondering why this man was still in his life.

"You hired me. I can't help it if your standards are lax," Norrington retorted.

"You smell funny!" Jack said childishly.

"Jack!" Charlie smacked his arm before going over to hold Norrington's hair back as he heaved even more.

"Huh…?"

"Jack, all I want is to find Will," Elizabeth said softly.

"I know…" He looked pained, and was laying on the theatrics pretty thick, until something clicked in his head. "Are you certain? Is that what you really want the most?" Jack said, back to being suave and persuasive.

"Of course." Lizzie was peering suspiciously at the pirate.

"Because I would think you would want to find a way to save Will the most." He led the young woman a couple of steps closed to the _Pearl_.

"And you have a way of doing that," Lizzie stated disbelievingly.

"Well… there is a chest."

"Oh, dear," James groaned, making Charlie chuckle. "Ms. Daniels! What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Eavesdropping. Shh." Pintel and Ragetti pushed by carrying a large crate of rum, barely casting them a glance. Charlie just stared in confusion.

"…of unknown size and origin."

"What contains the still-beatin' 'eart of Davy Jones!" Pintel exclaimed, while Ragetti emphasized the statement by pretending to pull out his still thumping heart – complete with sound effects.

Lizzie looked on disgusted and bemused at their presence.

"And whoever possesses the chest possesses the leverage to command Jones to do whatever it is he or she wants, including saving brave William from his grim fate," Jack finished, with a grin.

Norrington, still leaning on Charlie, had moved closer to the pair. "You don't actually believe him, do you?"

Jack gave Lizzie an "Oh, please, like I would lie to you" look.

"…How do we find it?"

"With this. My compass is _unique._"

"Unique here having to meaning of 'broken.'"

"True enough," Jack said coolly, while James stumbled away to vomit some more. "This compass does not point north." And James spewed.

"Where does it point?" Lizzie just wanted to get down to the point; she was sick of all this dancing around.

"It points to the thing you want most in this world."

And she was charmed by the pirate. "Oh, Jack… Are you telling the truth?"

"Every word, love." And even Charlie believed the man. For once. "And what you want most in the world is to find the chest of Davy Jones, is it not?" he asked rhetorically, placing Lizzie's hands around the compass.

"To save Will," she stated, the spell broken.

"By finding the chest of Davy Jones." He made a face as he flipped the compass open and scuttled off as fast as he could.

Charlie just watched the ridiculous man, utterly amused by his antics. Norrington stood by her, arms crossed and watching this interaction skeptically.

Jack crossed back behind Lizzie in a crouch and popped up on her left, peering at the compass' heading. "Mr. Gibbs!"

"Captain?"

"We have our heading!"

"Finally! Cast off those lines! Weigh anchor and…." The old sailor marched off, shouting out directions.

Jack ushered Elizabeth onto the ship with a, "Ms. Swann?" He watched her swaying backside all the way up the ramp.

Pintel showed up again, shoving a goat into Norrington's arms. "Welcome to the crew, former-Commodore."

James looked disgusted as he carried the goat aboard. Charlie followed, after grabbing a bunch of bananas, walking up with Ragetti. "So… why have you never invested in a glass eye? The wood must be really uncomfortable."

* * *

It was midnight, everything had settled down, and everyone was sleeping soundly while Cotton stood at the wheel. Elizabeth and Charlie camped on deck since the stars were out and they didn't feel like sleeping in the same room as several men.

"Tell me about Will. How's he doing?" Charlie whispered, looking for a shooting star.

"He's handsome as ever and has recently turned back to piracy – " Charlie broke down laughing " –and we were to be married the day we were arrested. He struck some kind of bargain with Beckett, so now he's off doing something for Jack to get Jack's compass to give to Beckett to free me." Exasperation was evident in Elizabeth's voice.

"You really miss him." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes."

"Ugh! You're so lucky. I wish I had a guy who loved me like that. Promise me something."

"Yes?"

"Promise you won't do anything to endanger what you have with Will."

"Why would I?"

"I dunno, but shit happens, and people make mistakes. We're human, it's what we do best. Just… try not to make any mistakes here. Or… at least don't do something you'll regret."

Elizabeth looked at Charlie curiously. "Why would I?" she repeated.

"I don't know… Tell me about this Beckett dude." Charlie turned onto her back, gazing at the stars. "I had enough warning to get out before he showed up, but I'm curious about what he's like."

"Well, for starters, he's shorter than a lot of the women I know and he has quite the complex…"

Once she was comfortable on her back and certain that Charlie had long since fallen asleep, Elizabeth let her eyes and mind wander, pondering her friend's curious advice. Will was the love of her life. She couldn't imagine… unconsciously, her gaze drifted to Jack's cabin doors.

A loud, phlegm-y snore drifted out like it was answering Lizzie's thoughts. She pictured him sleeping, shirtless (or even naked) in his bed and blushed. Maybe Charlie's words did have some merit… or she just needed to find Will and marry him as soon as possible to scratch the itch.

* * *

A week out, Charlie was regaining her tan and her hair was being bleached back to its natural honey color, courtesy of the sun. Jack had her doing menial duties, like lacquering the ship's railing and helping scrub the deck. Occasionally, he'd let her monkey her way to the crow's nest and play lookout.

On that particular day, she was done mopping the deck and rolling out her shoulders and arching up to stretch her back when a caustic voice asked, "And why are you on this fun little excursion?"

Surprised, Charlie's arms gave out and she landed flat on her back with a wince and a few select curses. She glanced up at Norrington, leaning casually against the rail looking down at her.

Struggling to her feet to join him, she said seriously, "You owe me a backrub, just so you know. I'm here to keep all my drunken pirates fed and alive. Biscuits and gruel and rum can only satisfy hungry men to a certain extent. How 'bout yourself, Sunshine? Do remember me yet?"

"That is for me to know and you to never find out." He chuckled darkly and began to swagger away. "And yes, Ms. Daniels. I remember _everything._ Why did you change your hair?"

"To be incognito so I could avoid EITC men. You're gonna try to kill Jack aren't you? You'll kill him and use the chest as a bargaining chip," Charlie called over her shoulder, fighting down her embarrassed blush. She kept her gaze was focused on the sea, hoping her last (sober, hygienic) encounter with James wouldn't come back to bite her in the ass.

Norrington paused and walked back placing his arms on either side of her body, coming a breath away from her ear. "How would you know anything about what I plan to do?"

"I've got a woman's intuition, love." She turned to face him, her eyes widening when she realized how close they were and the effect it had on her body. Her mouth went dry as all moisture rushed to… other places and her heart started beating faster.

"You arrogant twit! If you interfere, you had better hope God is on your side," Norrington growled, not breaking eye contact. His were green and gold fire while hers were pools of brown and green mischief.

"Why don't you learn to use breath mints?" Charlie retorted calmly, slipping delicately past him. She couldn't think when he cornered her like that. "What the hell happened to you, James?

"Why should you care? I'm sure if it were Theodore before you, it would be a different story all together. The two of you seemed rather cozy sitting out in the governor's garden some months ago," he sneered, making Charlie pause, square her shoulders and walk away.

She flipped him the bird just for good measure, all the while asking herself what, exactly, she saw in him.  


* * *

That Saturday night, Jack decided to let the crew let loose a little with rum, cards, gambling, and sea shanties. It could, quite possibly, be some of the last fun they'd have. There was no wind to push them forward anyway.

Charlie – who has a low tolerance for alcohol – had had half a bottle of rum and was fairly tipsy. The need to get away from pipe smoke and rowdiness had urged her to venture up to the helm.

"…_under the sea, under the sea! Each little snail here knows to wail here. That's why it's hotter under de water_," Charlie sang quietly. "Damn, I missed the sardine part… Oh well…"

"Charlie?" Elizabeth asked, joining the other girl.

"Yes, Lizzie dear?"

"Are you drunk?" Elizabeth sounded taken aback and her brow was furrowed.

"No, just really, really tipsy. What is up, yo?"

Lizzie looked puzzled. "The sky," she said slowly, as if Charlie was daft.

"No! What's up with – never mind. How are ya?" Charlie tried to clear her mind for her friend. The two women hadn't really had a deep discussion since this little adventure started.

"Confused. My head and my heart are telling me two very different things. It's so… frustrating!" She slammed her hands on the railing and then grimaced in pain. "I don't know which to listen to and I know that eventually I'll have to pick."

"So let Will and Jack decide for you. You will know when the time comes. For now, just be with your fiancé and love him. Just… wait for the right moment. You'll know, trust me."

"How? Divine intervention?" Elizabeth scoffed, glaring at the ocean, like her troubles were all its fault.

"Maybe, or maybe through woman's intuition."

"Your advice is confusing me even more," she deadpanned.

"Yeah, but it'll all make sense eventually." Charlie grinned wickedly, taking another sip of her drink.

The younger girl huffed and stalked off muttering about drunks. The ex-Commodore chose that moment to appear from the shadows.

"Hello, Sunshine," Charlie hiccupped. "What can I do fer ya?"

"Why do you assume that I need you to help me with something?" he huffed. "And please refrain from calling me 'Sunshine.'"

"Ookay, 1) Why? 2) I don't assume, I _presume_; it's much more tastefuller, and you know what they say about assuming. 3) You _do_ need help." Charlie began humming a tune (a waltz, to be precise) completely foreign to him and inadvertently began driving Norrington's blood pressure up.

"Stop humming," he ground out, wondering why he even bothered spending time with this woman. Well, she didn't treat him like her inferior or enemy, so that could be part of the reason, she'd confessed to liking him six months prior, and she was quite fun to get all riled up…

"You're too pale," she said. '_Ha! Look who's talking! Even after ten days out in the sun, I'm still not much darker… I'm the Queen of Transparency!_' Charlie hummed louder.

"What?! I… no – !" he began.

Charlie switched to singing on loo-loo-loo's and became even louder. Her voice was pretty, fuller than Elizabeth's and still it had a pure quality to it.

When he began to protest again, she merely pecked his cheek, and waltzed off towards Marty. She thought the midget was too cool and happened to get on extremely well with him.

Norrington walked down the stairs and crossed his arms as he watched Charlie spin the tiny man around the deck in time with the music playing in her head. He smiled a bit to himself, glanced at her once more and wandered off to find more rum.

Jack came up then and heard what was being sung. He winced, a full body motion, and rushed over and clapped a hand on her mouth. With wide, fearful eyes, he said, "Don' be singin' that in these waters, luv. We don' want the terrible beastie or Davy Jones 'earin', now, do we?"

Charlie shook her head in the negative, wondering where the devil she'd heard the tune before. It had been playing in her mind for weeks now… Probably just someone playing it in Tortuga, and she'd added her own embellishments to the music so who knows what Jack heard.

Satisfied, the pirate captain nodded and ordered the small crowd back to having fun. He handed the wheel over to Marty and pulled Charlie to the Captain's Quarters.

After shutting the doors softly ('_almost reverently,' _Charlie thought) Jack asked what she knew of Davy Jones.

Since Jack knew of her past/ future, Charlie answered honestly. "Enough."

"How much, exactly?" He sat in one chair and placed his feet on the desk while looking at her through half-closed eyes.

Sighing and forcing herself to act sober, Charlie sat on the desk facing Jack. "He places a black spot on the left hand of those who… either owe him a debt or who're marked for death. He's captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, controls the Kraken – your "beastie" – therefore controls the ocean. Um… his heart was broken, so he cut it out, placed it in a chest, and buried it on an island that only he knows the location of. Davy Jones can only step on land once every ten years. That's what One-Eyed Willy back on Tortuga said, at any rate. He likes to tell stories when he's drunk."

"Aye to all." Jack was being serious and seemed more openly frightened now that the crew couldn't see his every move.

"He's after you." Her now-green eyes locked with his near black ones.

A long pregnant pause followed her statement.

"Aye," he whispered, not breaking eye contact.

"Can I help in any way, Jack?"

"Well, either I find one 'undred souls t'give the bugger, I find his heart, or I join the crew t'serve a hundred years afore the mast of the _Flying Dutchman_. Option number one didn't really work out, I really don't wanna be enslaved fer a century, so findin' the bloody chest is me on'y choice."

"I could help find and guard the chest, Jack. I don't want to worry more than necessary… Why did you send Will over to the _Dutchman_?"

"I figured the whelp would successfully bring me the key, meet 'is father, and valiantly return at the las' momen' and save the bloody day. Why else would I send '_im_?" Jack grinned, showing that he was joking.

"Nice." Charlie smirked appreciatively, knowing that she was diverting his attention from imminent doom for a little while. "So, why Norrington?"

"We were desperate, and I though' it may be amusin' to watch ye and he once more."

"Have we proved entertaining enough, Captain?" Her eyebrows were raised haughtily.

"Ye could turn it up a notch, luv," Jack stated, planting his feet on the floor and shoving all worries to the back of his mind for as long as possible.

"Prick," she laughed, leaning back on the desk. Jack's eyes twinkled and his lips curled up. "So, you and Lizzie, huh?"

Immediately, red flags flew and his eyes darted around the room uncomfortably.

"She's troubled. It's her heart, mind, and body being screwy with one another. It's all about love, lust, and rationality. Quite frankly, I don't know how she can deal with it all. I certainly couldn't."

"If ye had to, 'ow would ye put up wif it?" Jack questioned.

Charlie considered for a moment before her eyes lit up. "Simple: I'd smack the men involved and take a lifelong vow of celibacy, wedding my soul to Jesus and all that."

It was Jack's turn to raise his eyebrows. "I can' see ye doin' that."

"And the reaction to that statement makes it all the more worth while. Talk to her, Jack."

"Alrigh'… but first, some rum!"

Charlie laughed, kissed his cheek, and left. She saw Norrington sitting on the stairs closest to the doors, and knew that he'd heard the entire exchange. Rolling her eyes and fighting a smile, she shut the doors softly behind her and went down to her hammock.

Good Lord, would she regret having anything to drink in the morning.

* * *

A/N: And so begins our venture into DMC.

Yes, James is being a prick. I am very aware of what a snarky, bitter, drunk he is at this point – and I like it! And yeah, that was a bit of (unconscious) jealousy back there. Oooooh yeeeeaaaaah.

Yes, Charlie gets defensive when she's embarrassed. And turned on when cornered by former-Commodores. And happy and affectionate when she's imbibed in alcohol (that's totally one of my traits, by the way).

How was that little téte-â -téte for you? 'Cause it was pretty good for me.


	13. Run It Up Your Mast!

A/N: Thank you all for your amazing feedback! We even have some newcomers to this itty bitty speck of fan fiction! YAAAY new people! Read the lyrics below; they're pretty hilarious.

I really have nothing else to say except: I OWN NOTHING!

* * *

_**Chapter Thirteen: Run It Up Your Mast**_

"Oh! I'd like to be a pirate  
A pirate's life for me  
All my friends are pirates  
And sail the B. B. sea  
I've got a Jolly Roger  
It's black and white and vast  
So! Get out of your Skull and Crossbones  
And I'll run it up your mast." – "The Pirate Song" by George Harrison

* * *

The next morning, Charlie woke with the mother of all headaches. That automatically put her in a bad mood, and – to put icing on the cake – it was cold, overcast, and windy up on deck. She ate with the crew and really wanted to strangle the parrot for squawking so loudly. Charlie swore then and there never to drink again. _Ever._

Eventually, she was dragged from her seat (while contemplating drowning herself in her oatmeal) by Elizabeth. Up on deck, Charlie looked for some work to do while Lizzie focused on avoiding a perpetually-drunk pirate captain.

The candles for the Cake of Misery just happened to come in the swaggering form of James Norrington, who looked all too chipper for such a bleary morning. "Did you have a nice liaison with the pirate last night?" he asked, happily.

"Did you have fun being a sneak last night?" Charlie grabbed a mop, filled a bucket with sea water, and started swabbing the deck. "And yes, I had a _marvelous_ time with Jack. He's an entertaining conversationalist." '_My back hurts already… Bloody Nuggets it's cold!'_ she groaned mentally. Frankly, she'd rather be sore and miserable and useful than pain-free, thinking only of her hangover, miserable and in the way. That wouldn't keep her from complaining though.

"To the less intellectual, I'm sure he is," Norrington was saying as he too began his chores.

"It takes more than you realize to keep up with our Mr. Sparrow's truths and half-truths. I find that his body language tells more than his words. Besides, I'm possibly your intellectual equal, but due to my selectively short attention span and the fact that I'm easily amused, my genius is effortlessly looked over." Of course, Charlie was just joking with that last bit about her 'genius,' but the humor was wasted on Norrington.

"I'm sure," he said skeptically.

Exasperated and in pain, Charlie snapped. "Why are you so stiff when the Royal Navy's etiquette doesn't apply here? I mean, seriously! This is a pirate ship – a _happy_ pirate ship – and happy-ish pirates don't have sticks shoved so far up their rear ends that they can no longer pillage and plunder and rifle and loot, drink up their hearties, yo ho! Loosen up, dude!" She did her best surfer imitation, but it didn't even earn a hint of a grin.

"I may be on a pirate vessel, but I was once a well-respected Commodore and a gentleman. I shall not become a foul, miserable, uncouth buccaneer!" he growled back.

"So you'd rather be a "foul, miserable, uncouth ex-Commodore" and wallow in your misery?" she quipped. "The only differences are the title, fickle respect of shallow, bewigged ninnies, and your paycheck."

"If I weren't a gentleman, and you weren't a woman, I'd happily run you through with my sword." His blue-green eyes were aflame.

"Lucky for me that I am, indeed, a female, then, isn't it?" Pausing for a moment, she added, "You look better without the wig, Sunshine."

Growling, Norrington flung his rag at her – and missed –, flinging water all over Charlie. Snarling, he picked it back up and returned to his work. He even managed to tune the woman out to some extent.

Goodness, she loved to win.

Jack walked down to her, holding his bottle of rum in one hand and resting the other around her shoulders, grinning like a madman. "Nice show, luv. I give ye a standin' ovation."

"Glad it meets your approval, doll." She leaned into the pirate's one-armed embrace and pulling an apple out of the pocket of the shirt Jack was letting her borrow. Norrington glared at the pair.

"Captain, luv, Captain. Can't have the crew seein' ye bein' all informal wif me, savvy?" He chugged some rum down, before Gibbs hailed him over. Jack shoved the empty rum bottle at her, and she tossed it over the side quickly.

Charlie was munching on the apple and sitting on a cannon near several members of the crew – and Norrington -, who were scrubbing the deck. The crewmen were laughing and joking amongst themselves, casting a wary eye on Norrington every now and again, and keeping their language as clean as a pirate could within earshot of a lady. They didn't want to offend the cap'n's "special" friend.

"So, Sunshine, are you still sore over losing Lizzie to a blacksmith?" Charlie asked not unkindly.

"That is none of your concern," was the stiff reply.

"Oh, really? But I'm really curious."

"Why do you care?" he grouched.

"Because I want to know if I stand a chance with you yet," she flirted, winking at him and taking another bite out of her fruit.

"A snowball's chance in 'ell, Ms. Charlie," Marty said as he walked on by, making the other men listening laugh and Charlie blush underneath her sun-pinked skin.

"Shut up, ya damn midget, or I'll stuff you in a cannon and see how far you fly," she snapped back. The men only laughed harder.

Norrington didn't react at all, aside from stiffening at her response to him. He was about to shoot some smart-aleck remark back when a conversation across the deck caught his attention.

"Beckett?!" Gibbs asked disbelievingly. Lizzie stood between him and Jack, who was reading some leather-bound papers.

"Yes, they're signed. Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company," Elizabeth responded matter-of-factly.

Jack stuck his tongue out like he was vomiting.

"Will was working for Beckett and never said a word." Jack groaned and clutched his pirate brand. "Beckett wants the compass… only one reason for that." Elizabeth looked confused.

"Of course. He wants the chest," Jack said.

"Yes, he did say something about a chest," Lizzie added, earning herself a flat look from Jack.

"If the Company controls the chest, they controls the sea," Gibbs explained.

"A truly discomforting notion, love," Jack told her.

"And bad. Bad for every mother's son what calls himself pirate. I think there's a bit more speed to be coaxed from these sails," Gibbs said, hurrying off. "Brace the foreyard!"

"Might I inquire how you came by these?" Jack said, forcing Lizzie to step backwards.

"Persuasion," she stated.

"Friendly?"

"Decidedly not," complete with an "are you an idiot?" look.

"Will strikes a deal for these and upholds it with honor, yet you are the one standing here with the prize," Jack said, voice full of… something. "Full pardon, commission as a privateer on behalf of England and the East India Trading Company," he read, catching James' full attention. "As if I could be bought for such a low price." He stuffed the Letters of Marque into a hidden pocket of his jacket and strutting off.

"Jack, the letters… give them back," Lizzie commanded, chasing him.

"No. Persuade me." He was like an obstinate child who refused to share his toys.

Lizzie got up close to him and murmured in his ear, "You do know that Will taught me to handle a sword."

Jack merely rolled his eyes and turned to face her. "Like I said: persuade me."

Lizzie was shocked and had no witty repartee prepared, so she nodded and stalked over to stand by Charlie. Jack looked back at her and grunted.

When Elizabeth joined her at the rail, Charlie said, "That "handle a sword" bit would have been much more effective if you'd grabbed his balls and did a little something with 'em, you know that, right?"

Some pirates heard her say that and cackled. Gibbs (walking up to the helm to speak with Jack) heard and glared at her for the impropriety of it. James choked on his own saliva.

Liz looked stunned that she would say such a thing and then blushed and grinned secretly to herself, probably thinking of some non-intercourse hanky-panky she and William had gotten up to.

Norrington rose to his feet and stood on the other side of Elizabeth, leaning his back against the rail. "It's a curious thing. There was a time when I would have given anything for you to look like that while thinking of me." It was all said with an underlying tone of condescension, most likely to hide his hurt away. When he gazed at Lizzie, while saying it, his eyes blazed with repressed longing. He smiled and then glanced at the other woman standing nearby. The smile changed to a full-blown smirk.

Charlotte's eyes widened with surprise and more than a hint of hurt and she got up to join Jack at the helm. Sadly, she could still overhear every word being said.

Both women missed James' surprise at Charlie's reaction.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the girl replied stiffly, turning away from the ocean.

"Oh I think you do," was the smug reply.

"Don't be absurd. I trust him, that's all." And now she was on the defensive. Her reply shocked Charlie, but not James. Was she talking about Will, and their possible oral shenanigans? Or Jack, with her life and a good part of her heart? The response could be taken either way.

James laughed and started to walk away. He took four steps and turned around. "So you _never_ wondered how your latest fiancé ended up on _The Flying Dutchman_ in the first place?" He shook his head and wandered off for real (he looked up at Charlie once, to see her conversing with Cotton and the parrot), leaving Lizzie behind with her thoughts and the compass that currently pointed to Jack. The poor chickadee looked like she was going to be sick.

"Hey, Jack. See anything good through that telescope thingy?"

"It's a spyglass, luv – nautical term – so please learn it. Now, if ye'll excuse me, I really must speak wif Ms. Swann… after I get me some more rum." He snatched a bottle from Marty and swaggered away to Elizabeth; she heard him say, "My tremendous intuitive sense of the female creature informs me that you are… troubled," which sent her into a mad giggle-fit.

Charlie decided to be polite and not eavesdrop on their "intimate" moment, so she walked away to the far side of the deck to watch them. Not being able to read lips, the details escaped her, but… Jack took pleasure in watching she and Norrington go at it, and Jack and Elizabeth _were_ amusing…

She noticed that she wasn't the only one observing Jack and Lizzie's interlude. His shoulders seemed stiffer than usual. And that hair – could it even be called that? – was making her itch to wash it (with or without force) and brush it out.

"Stupid, messy hair," she mumbled, turning back to watching her friends

* * *

Later, two weeks to be exactly exact, Charlie was thoroughly fed up with James Norrington (whom she'd been avoiding to the best of her abilities; it's hard to do on a ship) and her stupid attraction to the man, the ocean (well, the rocking of said ship), Elizabeth's woeful sighs and dreamy expressions, Jack's drunkenness, and hammocks. In effect, Gibbs, Jack, Lizzie, and Cotton – parrot and all – were fed up with her ranting and complaining. They had no trouble whatsoever telling the woman to shut up, and had done so numerous times.

Everyone's relief was _enormous_ when they reached their destination. That was short-lived when Jack decided that she would accompany him – and Elizabeth, Ragetti and Pintel, and Norrington – ashore. The pirate equipped her with a cutlass (she learned to use it quickly following the undead pirates incident months back) and a pistol. Jack's instructions for that were simple: aim for the head and shoot.

The six of them squeezed into one of the boats and Ragetti and Pintel rowed them to the beach. Charlie was half-amused and half worried about Jack while listening to their conversation.

"We don't want the Kraken t'catch us," Pintel stated, blissfully unaware of Jack's shivers and twitches behind him. "I'm saving me strength for when it comes. Just don't think it's Kraken, anyways. Always heard it said Kray-ken."

"What, with the long 'A'?" Charlie asked, crinkling her nose.

"Aha," Pintel replied.

"No, no, no, no, no. "Kroken"'s how it's pronounced in the original Scandinavian, and "Kraken"'s closer to that," Ragetti stated.

"Well, we ain't original Scandinavians, are we? Kray-ken." They were dragging the boat out of the water now, and being ignored by everyone.

"It's a mythological creature; I can calls it what I wants!"

Jack grabbed his coat and shovel from the boat while telling the two pirates, "Guard the boat, mind the tide… don't touch my dirt." He marched away pretty quickly, for someone purported to be perpetually drunk.

The two men and Charlie followed Elizabeth as she walked around the island while watching the compass. Eventually, she was just leading them in circles, so Charlie went to look at the compass. It pointed to Jack, who was posing a la Errol Flynn, and Elizabeth looked disgusted while Charlie laughed her ass off.

"This doesn't work, and it most certainly does not show you what you want most," Elizabeth huffed, sitting cross-legged in the sand.

Charlie laughed even harder, and Norrington rolled his eyes heavenward.

Jack examined the compass before saying, "Yes it does. You're sittin' on it."

"Beg pardon?" Lizzie asked, looking confused.

"Move." Jack was shooing her before whistling for Norrington to start digging.

While the former-Commodore was slaving away, Elizabeth was pacing nearby; Jack was meditating and letting Charlie play with his hair.

"So Jack… are you shocked that the compass pointed to you when Lizzie held it?" She smirked, growing bored with his hair and kicking sand at Norrington. Hey, the girl was bored and aggravated. Can you blame her? Besides, she liked getting him riled up. It was tons of fun.

"Not really, luv. Why? Are ye jealous?" He grinned smugly, never breaking his pose.

James paused for a moment in his work to look at them incredulously. Or maybe it was alarm… Meh, who cared? Charlie didn't even notice; Jack certainly did though.

"Not really, luv," she mimicked, laying her head in his lap. "Just curious…"

Jack started playing with her wild curls as they chatted. "About what'll happen when dear ol' William shows his face?"

"Yeah, pretty much. It's gonna be interesting, that's for sure. I hope she doesn't do anything stupid. I pretty much figure she will, but hey! A girl can hold out hope." Charlie closed her eyes, growing drowsy. She loved it when people played with her hair – it felt so nice that she'd fall asleep while they were doing it.

James (yup) made a mental note of that, as he watched her every muscle relax out of his peripheral vision.

"Hey, Sunshine, do you want any help? Or is this something only manly-men can do?" Charlie asked teasingly, with a smile curling her lips up and everything. It would seem she had forgiven him for his earlier misstep and wanted some banter.

He actually allowed the corners of his mouth to stretch upwards as he replied, "No, Miss Charlotte; everything is under control." And then he saw Jack watching him curiously, scowled and dug harder. Naturally, he muttered obscenities at the pirate under his breath and cursed himself for finding the exposed skin of Charlie's sun-darkened chest and throat tantalizingly endearing (the small beauty mark above the collar of the purple shirt was almost adorable). After all, she seemed quite intimate with Sparrow (even after expressing her attraction to him in Port Royal some months ago), and, strangely enough, too sweet to wrap up in his diabolical schemes. He might even miss their arguments should anything untoward happen.

About twenty minutes later, the shovel hit something solid and made of wood, pulling him out of his thoughts. Everyone sprung into action, leaping (or crawling, in Charlie's case) over to the hole and settling on their knees around it. Jack wiped some sand off the top and he and Norrington pulled it out. The lock was broken to reveal…

…Letters, envelopes, a string of pearls, dried yellow roses, bits of yellowed lace and scraps of parchment that were pushed aside to show a smaller chest. They cautiously pulled it out, gently placing it on the ground. All four of them placed their ears by it and – after a short pause that stretched on forever – heard a dull 'thump, thump.'

In the silent stillness, the sound was nearly deafening.

Charlie recoiled, rising to her feet. She preoccupied herself with stuffing the letters down her loose, tucked in shirt that covered her tank top and into her coat pockets and looping the beautiful pearls around her neck and the lace around her bony wrists.

"It's real!" Elizabeth had gasped.

"My God, you actually _were_ telling the truth," Norrington said in amazed sarcasm.

"I do that quite often, yet you people are always surprised," Jack said.

"No, shit," Charlie fake-gasped, trying to tie some lace around her wrist. "Help me with this, please, Sunshine." He made to walk over to her when something caught his eye.

"With good reason," a new, male voice said.

The quartet turned to see a handsome, tanned, brown-haired, dripping wet man walking towards them out of the surf.

"Will!" Lizzie cried, running for her fiancé. He caught her and they shared a passionate embrace. When they came back towards the group, Elizabeth was saying, "I came to find you."

Norrington got to his feet, irked that he was acquiescing to Charlie's command while keeping one eye on Turner. His fingers moved nimbly around her thin appendage, caressing the sensitive skin of her wrist and palm accidently.

"How did you get here?" Jack wondered.

Charlie and Norrington stood back, watching the reunion of the three friends. Norrington still clutched her left hand in his own, significantly larger one. Neither noticed.

"Sea turtles, mate. A pair of them strapped to my feet," Will grinned, arm around Elizabeth's waist.

"Not so easy, is it?" Jack said, recognizing the inside joke. Charlie grinned, almost having forgotten about it.

"But I do owe you thanks, Jack."

"You do?"

"After you tricked me onto that ship, to square your debt with Jones – "

"What?" Elizabeth gasped.

"What?" Jack's voice was two octaves higher than normal and he tried to look innocent.

" – I was reunited with my father."

'_As you predicted, Jack,_' Charlie thought rather smugly.

"Oh, well, you're welcome then," Jack said, bowing slightly and forcing a grin.

"Everything you said to me, every word, was a lie?!" Elizabeth cried.

"Pretty much. Time and tide, luv." It was almost funny how nonchalant Jack was being.

Will took out a knife and a funky looking key and knelt by the chest.

"Oi, what are ye doin'?" Jack asked.

"I'm gonna kill Jones," he panted, preparing to open the chest. Jack unsheathed his sword and leveled it at Will's throat.

"Can't let you do that, William. 'Cause if Jones is dead, who's to call his terrible beastie off the hunt, eh?" Will stood up, looking like he would go down without a fight, still gripping the key tightly. "Now if you please, the key," Jack said, reaching for it.

In a move Charlie almost missed, Will had Elizabeth's sword in hand. "I keep the promises I make, Jack. I intend to free my father. And I hope you're here to see it."

In the next instant, Norrington's sword was out and pointed at Will. "I can't let you do that either. Sorry."

'_Oh God…Hey, when did he move?' _Charlie thought. "I think the heat's gotten to their heads," she whispered. '_And mine too, most likely.'_

Lizzie nodded in agreement.

"I knew ye'd warm up to me," Jack said smirking, and he managed pissed Norrington off even more. He pointed his sword at Jack, effectively forming a triangle. "Lord Beckett desires the contents of that chest. I deliver it, I get my life back," the former-Commodore explained.

"Ah. The dark side of ambition," Jack said sagely, continuing to fight in a small battle of wills that was fuelled by large amounts of testosterone and greed.

"Oh, I prefer to see it as the promise of redemption."

Swords started swinging madly, in some kind of insane dance to the death. Will was knocked off of his feet, and Elizabeth rushed over to help him up. He said, "Guard the chest," before leaping back into the fray.

"No!" Elizabeth shouted, frustration at the over-abundance of testosterone, the heat, the lies, being told what to do, and men in general finally coming to a head. They scrambled to their feet, running after the combatants.

"Idiots!" Charlie muttered.

"This is barbaric! This is no way for grown men to settle...oh, fine!" Elizabeth roared, letting out her three weeks worth of agitation, fuelled by conflicting desires and irritation at Jack's constant propositioning. "Let's just pull out our swords and start banging away at each other! That'll solve everything! I've had it with wobbly-legged, rum-soaked _**PIRATES**_!" She chucked a couple of rocks and sand clots at the men, missing spectacularly. She didn't see Ragetti and Pintel standing behind her due to tunnel vision. "This is madness!" Seeing that it wasn't working, she decided on a different approach. "Enough! Oh! Oh, the heat!" she cried, fainting away.

Charlie looked at the younger woman quizzically, and when Liz sat up straight in a pout, she made to join her friend in the sand. Suddenly, she felt a breeze at her back, so she looked over her shoulder to see Ragetti and Pintel sprinting off with the chest. Lizzie noticed too, getting up to chase after them.

Charlie stayed put, eager to shout obscenities at Jack, Will, and Norrington.

After a moment, Jack ran off after grabbing the key, abandoning Norrington and Will – '_Will's on the ground, Norrington kicks sand in his eyes, bows mockingly, and takes off after Jack. Will recovers quickly, and is back in the race,'_ Charlie narrated, heaving herself to her feet and chasing after the youngest man on the island. The letters made running uncomfortable, but she shoved the discomfort to the back of her mind. They reached the ruins of an old church, where the bell was pealing madly.

"Jack," she growled. "Freaking moron…"

The bell stopped tolling, and two – no, three figures appeared, dueling, on the roof. Shaking her head, Charlie took a seat on a headstone after jumping (or, rather, clumsily climbing) over the fence. She'd wait to see the inevitable occur before budging.

'_I haven't had this good a workout in Lord only knows how long,'_ she thought. Evading groping hands and dodging swaggering drunkards doesn't constitute a workout, she decided.

Soon Will and Norrington were fighting atop the rotted water wheel after Jack somersaulted off the roof. He jogged triumphantly towards her, managing not to see an open grave and falling into it face first.

Charlie just laughed.

The water wheel broke loose, taking down part of the fence and working its way towards Jack, who was pulling himself out of a grave. Charlie ran a little ways off, laughing madly as Jack got stuck half-in and half-out of the wooden contraption, legs flailing in the air. Will and Norrington merely kept banging at one another with their swords.

The wheel made a full rotation, sending the captain inside it, where he ran, reaching for the key that dangled from a nail. The whole thing made Charlie think of hamsters with swords and death wishes.

They rolled into the jungle, Charlie chasing it and dodging errant tree branches. Jack was still trying to catch his key when he ran, head-first, into a metal bar, knocking him to the forest floor. When Jack regained consciousness, he ran to chase it by her side.

"Get – the – key?" she panted, glancing around.

"Not – yet," he replied.

Jack disappeared back inside the wheel, trying to get his prize when Will fell, grabbing the key first. The duel was a three-way once again. Charlie stopped chasing seconds before, noticed Lizzie backing slowly away from Pintel and Ragetti, and jogged over to Liz and the pirate duo.

"'Ello poppets," Pintel said, advancing on them. Ragetti licked his lips hungrily, lustfully.

Charlie panicked for a moment and wondered why she stopped chasing the boys, before remembering she was armed. She drew her sword and pointed it at them, waiting for Liz to do the same, before remembering that William had it. Crashing, shouts, and metallic sounds came from behind them.

The girls turned, seeing Davy Jones' walking aquatic menagerie of a crew approaching. Ragetti and Pintel shoved their weapons at Lizzie, preparing to run and dropping the chest as they ran on opposite sides of a tree, followed closely by the female half of the quartet.

The two men ended up fighting as they all ran away, shouting for a sword when needed. They made it to the boat in this manner, slashing and hacking at walking fish-things, but without the chest. Jack beat them there, pulling his head out of the boat, before joining in, happily.

The water wheel was still rolling, taking down about four of Jones' men (who, with two others, had surrounded Lizzie) before it finally gave in to gravity. Will and James had a hard time getting to their feet (there was lots of splashing and floundering in the rising tide involved), but they managed. Norrington rested a minute against the boat, fidgeting with his jacket and shirt.

Charlie didn't really notice any of this; she was too busy trying to get rid of her monster. He'd been able to scratch her left arm and gave a fairly bad blow to her thigh with his wicked-looking, spiked coral-y weapon. It was bleeding quite a bit. Only adrenaline and base instinct kept her going. Charlie really hoped the damn thing wasn't poisonous.

She dodged and parried blows, trying to force him into the defensive, but it didn't work. Norrington came up and stabbed the thing in the back, earning a smile from Charlie. She took a deep breath, and jumped right back in, ignoring her pain and the irritation caused by the papers down her shirt.

Jones' crew was closing in, pushing them against the boat with only open sea behind that, at least two to one.

"We're not coming out of this," Lizzie said.

"Not with the chest. Get in the boat!" Norrington barked.

"You're mad!" the other woman exclaimed.

Jack, grasping the situation, murmured to her (and Lizzie heard), "Tia Dalma's hut, Zapata Swamp. We'll be there."

Charlie, understanding his plan, grabbed the (empty) chest and Norrington's hand. "Don't wait for us." They ran off – she was wincing with every other step – with the creepies following. They raced into the jungle and Charlie's leg finally gave out. She fell over, pulling James down with her, right in front of a body holding a conch shell head. The chest flew out of her grasp. He dropped his sword, which the decapitated body stepped down on.

"I shall pry the chest out of your cold…dead…hands," it said. The rest of the crew came crashing in behind them, chuckling ominously.

James hefted Charlie to her feet, one arm supporting her around the waist, and tossed the chest to the headless body. "Here you go!"

He dragged her beside him, leaving the scene as quickly as possible. The laughter echoed behind them.

* * *

A/N: And there ye have it! The end of Chapter Thirteen. I love you all uber-much. Thanks so much for all of your support up to this point. Can't wait 'til next week! (It'll be some random day/ time because I have no schedule of operation.)

Oh, and **Stella Cosmopolita**, I'm insanely, incredibly, indubitably jealous of you! Getting to travel around Europe and see all of that history and culture?! Gah! Let me know how your exams go! Thanks, as always, for being such an awesome reader!

**Luthien Saralonde –**I always love hearing from you! Your reviews never fail to make me smile, laugh, or even both in one go! Your support means _a ton_ to me. Thank you!

_G._


	14. Too Much

So, this chapter is pure James/ Charlie interaction. I'm so excited! SQUEE!

**Anyway, I have pictures up on my profile at the very bottom. Check them out and let me know what y'all think!**

I hope you enjoy this. It's completely original. We'll be getting back to the movie stuff soon, but not here or the next chapter.

Enjoy!

* * *

_**Chapter Fourteen: Too Much**_

"Love is blind, as far as the eye can see  
Deep and meaningless, words to me  
Easy lover, I need a friend  
Road to nowhere, twist and turns but will this never end…" – "Too Much" by The Spice Girl

* * *

After another quarter mile, they stopped while Norrington examined her hurts. As luck would have it, they were near a clear stream of fresh water, so he tore excess fabric of his shirt off, rinsed, and wrapped her arm in it.

"You'll need to remove your breeches for me to tend your leg," he said softly. Behind all the dirt and sweat and tan, he was blushing at having to ask a lady to remove her clothing, even if it was for her own benefit. It was… awkward, to say the least.

The lady in question didn't even notice. She just nodded and did as asked, screwing her face up and trying her hardest not to scream as the rough fabric rubbed and pressed her wound.

"It hurts," she growled with tears in her eyes. Her forehead was covered in sweat, and it just got worse with the pain. They weren't even off her thighs yet.

Wordlessly, he removed her shoes and carefully pulled her jeans off her pale legs. When the material rubbed the long gash, she let out a short howl of agony.

He moved her over to the water to rinse it off, before repeating the tear-and-wrap process, but with material from her extra-long shirt. When he was done, the majority of her pale thigh was bandaged tightly, but loose enough to keep circulation.

He couldn't help but notice her strange undergarment, but refrained from asking about it. The thing showed more skin than any proper lady would be willing to have uncovered under her skirts (Tortuga's prostitutes would probably love it). But then, he reminded himself that this was Charlie, the farthest thing from a lady of society and, a far cry from a prostitute.

"Thank you," she said, splashing the cool water over her face, even dipping her hair into it. "I mean it, thanks."

"I don't really like the idea of having the death of a good woman on my soul, even if she's a pirate," he said with the shadow of a smile.

"Jack wouldn't have let me die," Charlie pointed out.

"Are you honestly naïve enough to believe that the _Flying Dutchman_ isn't hidden somewhere nearby? How else could the crew be here so suddenly?"

"I wouldn't have died. You're being _way_ dramatic, and I'm not naïve. Jack is my friend, along with most every other member of that crew. They wouldn't have let me die." Charlie had stood during her little speech, pulling her pants up her legs slowly after removing as much blood and grime as possible.

"How do you know that?" Norrington asked suspiciously, tucking his shirt back into his trousers.

Charlie slid her sneakers back on, replying, "Because I trust him, Sunshine. He likes me, and the people he likes – really truly likes and respects – don't die on his watch." She slumped against a tree, her normally cheerful countenance replaced by one of sadness. '_Suck it up, buttercup,_' she told herself, bolstering her remaining composure and dignity. "Where do we go now?"

"To the port I know is nearby. There's a small, neighboring island not a quarter of a mile to the west. It'll be an easy swim, especially if we find something buoyant to help support us. We can find an inn and buy passage back to Port Royal." Norrington stood, brushing his pants off, offering his hands to help Charlie up.

She grabbed his hands (they felt very nice gripping hers, once she got past the small shock that passed between them) and was lifted to her feet. A stick to help her balance was found, and they were on their way.

"Why back there?" she asked. Realization dawned a second later. "Oh… when you were fiddling with your jacket earlier, you were hiding the Letters of Marque. You stole them from Jack." Then she heard the 'thump, thump' of the heart. "And either I'm hearing your heart beat – unlikely – or you stole Jones' heart."

He merely looked at her emotionlessly, awaiting her judgment.

"You know, it seems kinda creepy having a heart beating against your skin. Put it in your pocket if you want. I can't exactly get very far, and nor do I wish to touch the thing under _any_ circumstances."

James looked relieved and immediately relocated the organ to his coat pocket. They continued on in silence for about fifteen minutes when she broke it.

"Can I call you James, Sunshine?"

"Will you stop calling me 'sunshine'?"

"Nope."

"Fine," he sighed, figuring that at least he'd have some variety in greetings. "May I call you Charlie?"

"Yeah, go right ahead. In my opinion, it's uber better than 'Charlotte.'" Her voice was tense, but for once it wasn't because of him… or at least not directly. She leaned against a tree trunk and shook her head. "I'm named after my senile great aunt who smelled like boiled cabbage. It's really very nasty."

"I'm named for my father. The eldest son is always christened 'James.'"

"Family reunions must be fun, then," she observed.

James' jaw tightened. "I have no family. Those who live in London don't care – they're too busy currying favor with whoever holds some semblance of power in Parliament."

"What about your parents?"

"Killed on the crossing back to England. It was a pirate raid."

"That explains a lot… My parents divorced when I was nine. Dad moved in down the street from us, so my brothers and I would spend a week with mom and a week with dad. Every time they were in the same room for more than five minutes, they'd end up shouting. I always heard it. And then college happened. Good times, good times…" She was smiling slightly just recalling her university days.

They quickly reached the small beach after that quick rest stop and he immediately set to finding something large enough for them to share and buoyant enough to float across to the other island. Charlie could actually see it in the fading sunlight.

"Oh… stupid thing to forget, but I'm still bleeding from a couple places and there are sharks in the water… how long would it take to MacGyver a raft together?" she asked him apologetically.

"Damn it all…" he muttered, cursing himself for forgetting. "A good part of tonight to find the materials and a better part of the morning to make it, I'm afraid. We'll have to camp here tonight. Maybe a stray ship will see our fire…" James promptly set about building one.

Charlie started to get up to help find dry wood, but he gently pushed her back down, urging her to let him handle it. She smiled at his unconscious consideration.

* * *

The fire was built and James was carefully carving mangos and sugar apples up with his belt knife. Charlie lounged on her back, jacket pillowing her head, watching him work while the firelight danced across his features. He looked like some romance novelists wet dream.

"Forgive my asking, but how old are you?" he asked as he handed her a sliced mango on a large (thoroughly examined) leaf. No bug eggs or animal excretion on Charlie's leaves.

"Twenty-seven. You?" She stuffed some mango into her mouth, savoring her favorite fruit (save strawberries).

"Thirty-six." He helped himself to a sugar apple.

"No shit! But… you're so… hot and young-looking without the wig! Your hat was pretty cool though… Oh well…. Do you hear that?" Waves crashed and, across the small expanse of water, gunshots could be heard. "We're not going to… stick out in this particular port, are we?" Her voice was laced with apprehension.

"No. Here pirates and privateers meet on friendly terms, trade, barter, whore, drink, and gamble. We'll be fine as long as we're not caught by the East India outpost on the far side of town, or the Spanish guards who – and I use this term loosely – patrol the streets."

"Thanks for being so reassuring. How'd you know about this place?"

"I've bartered for passage here before."

"Fine, be vague. Just don't use me as leverage in any bargaining you might do, alright?"

"Alright." James quirked a smile and lost himself in planning for the next leg of their journey, praying to God that they wouldn't have to make any quick escapes from potential jailers, or drunks looking for a woman – any man's woman – and a fight. He didn't like the thought of Charlie being propositioned by one of the local drunkards. Even though their relationship blew hot and cold, Norrington knew she was above whoring herself to anyone. The mere idea of it made him see red. He wasn't too happy with the thought of a duel either.

"Hey, Sunshine? Want to tell me about your parents? I'm kind of curious, and… I don't know… something to talk about would be nice."

He was rather shocked into silence. Someone actually wanted to listen to him ramble on about his family, and the few memories he had of them?

"Or, y'know, we don't have to talk about that. The weather was next on my list of things to discuss," she continued. He picked up on the slight tremor and note of apology in her voice.

"Are you certain you wish to hear an old man relive some of his memories?" he asked, glancing down to his right and raising his eyebrows high.

"Yeah, is that okay? I like listening to people. And you're not _that_ old."

"Alright, as you wish." He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "My mother was quite beautiful and always smelled of honeysuckle and vanilla; they're my favorite scents, besides that of the sea. She was the perfect wife and mother, never letting a nursemaid do anything more than clothe us, bathe us, and change us. The rest of parenting she did herself. My father owned his own shipping company, after retiring from being a ship's captain. He was rather an austere figure, until he became comfortable with a person. He had a dry, cutting humor and a lightning-fast wit. You probably would have been fond of him and he you.

"I had a younger brother, Isaac, who died of the measles at age eight. My younger sister married a Member of Parliament and died in childbirth almost seven years ago. She was twenty, and gave birth to a girl, Luciana Augusta – Augusta after our mother. I've never met her, as her father retired to the English countryside after Virginia's death.

"My parents decided to relocate to the Caribbean in their old age, my father, having inherited a fortune from his brother's death, retired and bought a small home in Port Royal. The ship they were on was attacked, sacked, and sunk by pirates in Caribbean waters four years ago. The pirates locked all the passengers in the brig to drown and viciously killed the crew, leaving their bodies for the sharks or the next passing ship to find."

Silence descended after telling his tale. She was surprised at how much he condensed it and how factual it all seemed. One look at James, though, and she knew he had to tell the story that way or risk his pride by becoming _overly_ emotional. "Thank you, James," Charlie said softly, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. "Want me to 'fess up to some pretty crazy shenanigans from my college days? Some of that shit was weird enough for even you to laugh."

"Fine. Go on and try me," he smiled indulgently. He lay on his side, propped up on one elbow just watching her with glittering eyes as he cut slices off of his mango at a leisurely pace.

"Okay, so it was a regular hour of music theory when we all hear some guy in the hall screaming and cursing at something. It kept getting louder as he ran towards our end of the hall, so some of us – and the teacher – stick our heads outside to see the guy chasing a monkey that seemed to have run off with his trumpet. This happened in Texas – which is currently controlled by Spain, in the continent known as 'America' – where the monkey population is zero unless you're in a zoo. Anyway, so this guy corners the monkey, grabs a garbage ca – waste basket and pins the monkey under it. The professor pointed out that the trumpet was trapped with the monkey, and the dude sat down on top of the basket and started bawling. Anyway…."

* * *

The city was a cleaner version of Tortuga. Drunks were being tossed out of taverns and carousing loudly, while painted women stood in the shadows waiting for a lonely man to request their services. After the peaceful silence of the sea and the soothing noises of the forest at night, Charlie had managed to repress her memories of the noise and stench. Now, all of that had resurfaced.

James steered a very shaken Charlie (remember that fear of the ocean?) into a slightly less crowded tavern, got a room, and two pints of rum before sitting at the table she'd chosen in a corner. Her leg was hidden under the table, out of harm's way, and she was resting her head in her hands.

"God, I hate bars," she groaned, wincing as she adjusted her leg a bit. It hurt like the dickens, but she tried not to gripe and bellyache about it. Doing so just made it worse.

"May I ask why?" Norrington said, downing some rum.

"Daily headaches, very little sleep, being groped by filthy men, being mistaken for a hooker, and bar fights are the reasons why it's a less than appealing job."

"Why not work elsewhere?"

Charlie stared at him. "Are you really that naïve? Have you not _been_ to Tortuga? Any respectable establishment barely has enough patronage to meet taxes, much less pay an employee enough to rent a place with four walls, a roof, and a bed. Marketplaces are full of farmers' wives selling stuff who have enough kids to run the place for free. Other shops require rudimentary skills and establishments where women are welcome (like the seamstress') require domestic skills and the ability to be opinion-free."

He didn't reply, just finished his drink and started on the untouched tankard next.

She watched for a moment before saying, "You're going to ruin your liver and die if you drink too much, you know."

"How would _you_ know that? No research has been conducted to prove your theory." Just to piss her off, he took a long, large drink with sparkling eyes. James Norrington enjoyed giving her hell, testing her patience – just flat out challenging her.

"But it will happen eventually. Seriously!" She grimaced as a large man jostled by, successfully upsetting her leg . "Ow… what was I – Oh! Compare a dead drunk's liver to that of a dead, non-heavy drinker's, and tell me which you'd rather have inside of yourself."

"How do you know such things?"

"Intellect, dearest Sunshine. Which room did you get for us?"

"Three, why?" His gaze wandered around the room, and back to her face.

"I think I'm going to go on up. May I have the key?" He fished it out of his heart-free pocket for her. "The door'll be unlocked, so come on in if you're not piss drunk." Charlie hauled herself up, thanks to the stick, before awkwardly maneuvering towards the stairs. "Goodnight, Sunshine!"

Once she was away from everyone else she laid on the bed, shoe-and-sock-less, buried her head in the pillow and cried a bit. Her arm and leg freaking hurt, something inside of her said she and James – who she was really becoming even more attached to, and… liking even more – were going to soon part ways for a long time.

Her tears stopped eventually, and she removed the papers from her – Jack's shirt and her coat pocket. She randomly grabbed one, unfolded it and began to read.

_**Davy, my love: **_

_**You're my man, my mighty king,  
And I'm the jewel in your crown,  
You're the sun so hot and bright,  
I'm your light-rays shining down,**_

_**You're the sky so vast and blue,  
And I'm the white clouds in your chest,  
I'm a river clean and pure,  
Who in your ocean finds her rest,**_

_**You're the mountain huge and high,  
I'm the valley green and wide,  
You're the body firm and strong,  
And I'm a rib bone on your side,**_

_**You're an eagle flying high,  
I'm your feathers light and brown,  
You're my man, my king of kings,  
And I'm the jewel in your crown**_.

_**Love truly, **_

_**Calypso**_

Charlie thought back to what Gibbs had told her Tia Dalma, the voodoo lady, said during Jack's last visit to her swamp.

"…It was a woman as changing, and harsh and untamable as the sea. He never stopped loving her. But the pain it caused him was too much to live with, but not enough to cause him to die…. It was not worth feeling what small, fleeting joy life brings. And so, him carved out him heart, locked it down in a chest, and hid the chest from the world. The key he keep with him at all times."

Calypso was the woman Davy Jones had fallen so deeply in love with. She was the sea personified, and she gave him all the pleasures and pains the ocean gave to all of its true lovers. Eventually, she must have hurt him really badly to have Jones cut out his own heart. She'd probably left him, taking some of his love of the sea with her.

What a bitch.

Charlie went on reading. The pile consisted of entire letters that he'd never sent, more poems, notes begging for her to return, pieces of music, poems and notes that she'd sent him_, _pure love and devotion, anguish, heartbreak, and simmering anger. She was entranced by all of them.

She read for what seemed like hours before her eyes began to smart. Charlie put them back up, and settled into the pillows and blankets, planning her next move. She'd go to Tia Dalma's swamp island, the next nearest and most likely meeting place of the pirates', to meet with the voodoo lady at the very least and hopefully the crew. Jack said they'd be there…

Charlie left the candle alight for James and forced herself into slumber.

* * *

A/N: Okie dokie, gang! Here's chapter fourteen. I hope you liked it! Don't forget to check out the pictures!

G.


	15. Damned If I Do

Hey, I know it's been a while, but life decided to happen. Good news: I have a job! Bad news: I have a job. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Damned If I Do Ya (Damned If I Don't)**

"Make a fool of myself  
When you hang around  
When you're gone  
I'm a match that's burning out  
Could've been, should've done  
What I said I was going to  
But I never promised you…" – "Damned If I Do Ya (Damned If I Don't)" All Time Low.

* * *

_**The Same Night…**_

Sometime later, a slightly inebriated James Norrington entered room number three, locking the door behind him. The candle was flickering a little bit, illuminating the woman lying on her side, cradling the pillow against her body. Her soft snores filled the room, and she was smiling in her dreams.

He grinned a bit at the sight she presented and shrugged out of his heavy coat, deciding that Charlie was the epitome of peace at the present moment.

Her skin and clothes were grimy, her flesh burned but steadily darkening, hair lightening but even wilder after their adventure in the jungle. Blood could be seen through the makeshift bandages on her arm and leg. He'd change those come morning…

Norrington couldn't honestly say that Charlie was striking or beautiful – that was Elizabeth Swann's arena – but she exuded something that just made her personality memorable, if not her looks. Cleaned up and in fresh clothes she was pretty. He could remember _that_ much from Port Royal and his engagement party.

Shaking his head slightly, James debated over sleeping on the floor so he didn't inadvertently disturb her rest, or her leg.

"Are you checking me out, James?" she mumbled, eyes still firmly closed.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"Don't worry, only dozing. Sleep on the bed. I saved room for you." Charlie patted the space beside her.

"It wouldn't be proper – ."

"Screw propriety. You're a pirate for the time being, after all. I'm not too worried about you raping me either. Besides, you'll be cranky after sleeping on the floor. Down there you might get a contact-STD or VD or something. Not cool." Her eyes were still closed.

"It still isn't proper sharing a bed with a man you aren't married to. I can't allow your reputation to be tarnished, since we're returning to Port Royal."

Charlie sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. "Okay," she yawned, "I'm not some blushing, giggling virgin – haven't been since I was nineteen, so the husband-slash-reputation excuse is absolutely pointless. Also, _you_ are going to Port Royal; I am not. From what I've heard, Cutler Beckett is an arrogant, cold asswipe with a freaky name and no emotions. He also slightly resembles a toad, from Lizzie's account. I don't like the sound of him, even if he is freakishly short and I could probably intimidate him, and I refuse to go near him even with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole. Have fun with that. So… just get in the bed. I won't jump your bones, honest."

Sighing, James' attention shifted to a stack of parchment on the small table as he weighed his options. He could sleep on the disgustingly sticky floor, be uncomfortable and get little sleep, wake up sore and make life miserable for everyone. _Or_ he could sleep in the bed (which looked fairly tolerable) beside an attractive woman who wasn't scared of him, get a good night's rest and be cheerful in the morn.

The bed held all the appeal in every single aspect.

"Propriety be damned," he muttered, removing his effects and proceeding to crawl in beside Charlie, who was beaming at his decision. He didn't remove the stiff, smelly shirt because he didn't know her limits, and didn't really care to test them at the moment.

"Hey, Sunshine, take the shirt off unless you want me to vomit in your general direction," she said, dousing the candle.

Relieved, if wary of her new-found ability to read his mind, he did so.

"Goodnight, James," Charlie sighed, trying to get comfortable.

"Goodnight… Charlie."

His snores filled the room not too long after that. Grinning, the blonde woman thought, _'This is cute! ...Maybe it's not the best time to tell him that I'm a sleep-kicker…'_

* * *

James woke up several hours later as light filtered through the nasty, dirt-caked window. Beside him, Charlie slept curled against him with his arm around her waist almost possessively; they were pressed tightly against the other, and he could feel… well, two of his favorite parts of the female anatomy were squished against his chest. He did a double-take, causing her to stir a bit before going back to sleep.

One of her tiny (by that I mean thin) hands was between his bare chest and her breasts, gripping some of the sparse, curly hairs gently. Her brows were furrowed, creating a slight pucker. The hand against his chest twitched as he watched, fascinated.

"Stop staring at me." Charlie opened her tired, forest-colored eyes and met James' gaze. "It's kinda weird."

Her hair was mussed, her eyes still unfocused, and she was pouting. He thought she looked adorable, sunburn and all.

"Sorry." Dear Lord in heaven! He was developing her habit of forming fragmented sentences!

"Okay." She yawned and buried her face in his neck. "You smell good, which is also weird."

"Thank you…" He was puzzled by her sudden need for contact, by her friendliness. The hand resting on her waist began running up and down her side of its own volition.

Charlie almost purred, she was so content.

"Last night," he began, "you said you weren't going to return with me to Port Royal. What are your plans?" His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

"I intend to get passage to a – hopefully - nearby island, visit an old friend of Jack's, and rejoin his crew. Now, what seems like more fun? Working for a self-absorbed toad of a man, or going to a swamp to meet up with a kooky pirate captain?"

"Neither," he replied dryly, tracing patterns on her side. "But I want my respect and position back, so I'm going to Port Royal. You do recall that I'm not fond of pirates, correct?"

"Yeah, but that makes me wonder why you're sharing pillow talk with one," she replied with a grin, tweaking his nose.

He returned the smile, with no little effort, and tugged one of her curls. Charlie's hair captivated him, being naturally honey colored, reaching her mid-back, and retaining perfect, untamed corkscrew curls.

"You like the monster, do you?" she asked.

"What?"

She grimaced. "My hair. When I was a kid I used to be convinced that a curly, blonde monster attached itself to my scalp one night and never let go. What did you do as a kid?"

"I went to boarding school in England."

"I meant for fun." Charlie's fingers latched onto a strand of his hair and played with the end of it, tugging lightly sometimes.

"I used to read a lot, all manners of things, ranging from naval books to newspapers to Shakespeare. Occasionally, I joined other boys my age in a game of marbles and my older brother in chess."

"Fun," she said, sarcasm-free for once.

"What did you do?"

"I'd read or write, sing – even being untrained – and dance, play checkers with my dad or younger brothers, play modern games – that kind of thing."

"It would appear that our childhoods share several similarities."

Charlie just nodded, thinking, '_Why the hell is he going to Toad Man? Why can't he stay with me? Well, then I suppose life would probably be too easy.' _

James shifted his legs a smidge, knocking her thigh. Charlie flinched, ground her teeth together and cursed (mentally) in a manner that would make a sailor proud.

"I suppose we'd best be off to find a ship," he said, tensing against her.

She realized that he regretted opening up to her and being friendly. It stung Charlie. She was fond of the ornery but sensitive seaman, especially after all of their bonding and flirting since rejoining Jack. '_I like him too much. Getting so attached will only come back and bite me in the buttocks later.'_

Charlie nodded and carefully sat up to put her shoes on. "You're dead set on going back?"

"You're set on remaining a pirate?" Norrington shot back, sliding the blue coat on.

She grinned at him. "If it ends in a reunion with a friend, then yes."

James was shocked and enraged at the affection her eyes betrayed at the mention of that pirate. While he loathed pirates, he knew that not everyone shared his sentiments. He was currently wishing that she'd start disliking them a little more. "I'm certain that whatever madcap adventure he has planned will be just as… _daring_ as all the others," he spat sarcastically.

"Hey, don't do that!" Charlie said, not exactly eager to have his dark side back after coming to like the light side so much more. "Do not go back to being a bastard, please! While it's kind of sexy and arguing with you is immensely entertaining, I like the friendly banter and general niceness much better." She looked at him with mixed emotions, trying to figure out where he was coming from.

Norrington's lips became a thin line, his nostrils flared, and his brow wrinkled. "Is that all I am to you? Some… easy entertainment? I suppose you absolutely _adore_ Jack Sparrow and fancy yourself in love with him, then, if that's the case. Well, I hope I was of some amusement to you while _he_ was off attempting to woo Ms. Swann."

"Whoa now, Sunshine, don't go knocking yourself or Jack in front of me, okay? I've said this a hundred times: I'm _highly_ _attracted_ toyou. You are a cool guy who I don't have to talk stupid to! That is wonderful to me, okay? So don't _ever_ sell yourself short like that in front of me again. And Jack – what can I say about him? He's – "

"So you admit you're in love with him then?" His tone was cold enough to freeze Hell. Charlie knew he was this close the throttling her. Yes, he was being irrational, but he'd had this particular insecurity since boarding _The Black Pearl_ and watching Elizabeth drool over Sparrow while Charlie disappeared into his cabin with him for interminable periods of time. Frustration and disappointment at her stubborn refusal to return to civilization with him were coming to a head.

"No, I never said that!" she said firmly, glaring at him from her spot on the bed. "Jack is my _friend_. I owe him a debt for saving my life about a year ago, and I have no more romantic interest in him than I do in Gibbs! Yes, I love Jack, but only as a friend, only platonically. He knows my history, and I know some of his. We trust each other, and I've paid off a debt or three of his. He's rubbed my back and held my hair after I've had too much to drink. I've given him an ear andbg a shoulder, and generally had a good time with him. We're _friends_ without benefits; you know all of this, so why is it suddenly such an issue? I mean, is it some kind of crime to love someone _as a friend?_"

Norrington smirked evilly. "Only if that someone engages in acts of piracy."

"_You_'ve been posing as a pirate for quite some time, sir! _You_ have been in several bar fights in Tortuga! _You_ signed onto a pirate ship! _You_ have stolen from and lied to your captain, and saved the life of a pirate! Guess what the result is when those are added all together? _You're a pirate! _Surprise! Tell me, is that also illegal?" she asked sarcastically, still wondering where the hell this mood swing of his came from.

"I only did that because I had no choice in the matter! I am, by rights, a Commodore in the Royal Navy. There's nothing illegal about that occupation."

"No matter how drunk you were, you're the one in control of your actions, and you're not a ranking officer right now! I'm sorry that this is going to sound harsh, but you were stripped of your commission for your bad decision." She winced as she said it; Charlie hated to remind him and to be such a bitch to the man she was falling for.

"What do you do when the one thing you love and long for is calling to you, regardless of how delusional or inebriated you may be?" he growled.

"I find a way to get to whatever it is I want so desperately." She had a feeling all of her previous arguments were about to be shot to the ground.

"Exactly. That is precisely what I did. I know Sparrow runs a good ship, despite his pirate status and utter insanity. The sea was calling to me, and, as a devoted lover would, I hastened to return, biding my time for something other than random acts of pillaging. I wanted an adventure, I wanted to be on the ocean again, and I wanted revenge. I got all three."

She reached as close to the floor as she could, hoping to do like Harry Potter and _accio_ the stick into her grasp. James bent down and handed it to her instead.

"That still doesn't mean you have to be an ass about everything." Charlie stood and limped to the door (after reclaiming the letters), James hot on her heels as they made their way downstairs to put food in their bellies. Jack's shirt (once again filled with letters) was unbearably hot, but she wanted as much skin covered as possible. Also, she'd stashed wages from Tortuga in her bra, and had taken them with her off the _Pearl,_ not realizing she'd had them on her person until she and James were lashing the raft together the day before.

Shortly after ordering food, with Norrington sitting stiffly beside her, a tense silence engulfed their corner of the room.

Their meal arrived in the hands of an amused tavern wench who winked suggestively at the gentleman (she seemed to think that they had had a love affair going on and that she could sooth his ruffled ego and shattered heart). Silence still reigned supreme.

Charlie dug in happily, and after she washed it down with water, she said, "I really do not like you right now."

Coming out of his own reverie, he replied, "I thought that the previous lack of communication indicated that we weren't on speaking terms." He thought of his married friends and the horror stories they told of their wives temperaments. He shuddered a little bit.

"Oh, em, gee. _Why_ do I have a spoon but nothing to eat with it? So stupid… It doesn't make sense!" Immature it may have been, but Charlie didn't particularly care. _'Anyways, I wonder why he thinks I'm in love with _Jack Sparrow_… There is such a thing as loving someone as a friend for just being a friend. Curious… Oh well. He's going back to the RN, I'm going to find a voodoo lady to meet up with Jack. This'll probably be the last time we're on dry land together. I'm actually gonna miss James "Sunshine" Norrington.'_

She calmly watched him finish breakfast. She really was going to miss him… Her gut disputed what her brain said, telling her that they would meet again. The sea had a funny way of bringing people together.

At the docks, they bartered for passage to Port Royal (they'd discovered that Charlie's destination was on the way) then returned to the inn. The ship didn't leave for another week… So, the couple would be sharing quarters, both on land and at sea, for another four weeks total. That is, unless one of them changed their stubborn mind and decided to accompany the other – unlikely. But communication would be vital, so this tiff would have to be overcome.

They both thought along those lines while wandering about the small port town. People from all sorts of backgrounds lived in the town, from pirates to runaway slaves to eloped lovers to privateers from several different countries – France, Spain, England, the Netherlands – and opportunistic merchants and their families. Everyone was trying to make a profit off of one another. Passing by a silver smith hawking his wares, Charlie remembered something.

"Sunshine, do you mind if we stop so I can buy a hair brush and some ribbon? I can't handle my mane being this wild much longer." She looked at him with an apologetic expression and he felt himself cave; he always had a tender spot for women, especially when they used the pitiful, kicked-puppy look.

"Of course." Just because he was a sucker, didn't mean he had to be a happy one.

She smiled gratefully at him. "Thanks, babe." And she was off to a stand selling such trinkets as to catch a lady's eye and haggling over a beautifully carved wooden brush and four ribbons of different colors. Only she would aim not to match. He grinned a bit on the inside and leaned against a brick wall, just watching her and the merchant go at it. The man was getting frustrated and turning an intriguing shade of plum while Charlie waved her hands animatedly in the air and grinned.

He truly wished she'd accompany him back to Port Royal; not only would her company be pleasant, but he'd know he could always trust her. However, his plans would be easier to execute if he arrived alone. He wouldn't have to worry about anyone's safety being jeopardized should his presence be required at sea or the social and political ramifications of arriving with her, alone and unmarried. James knew Beckett wasn't to be trusted unless James had some sort of leverage… something Beckett wanted desperately, like Jones' heart. Once he handed that over, all guarantees went out the window. Was it even worth it? '_Of course it is_,' he told himself. '_I've only been dreaming of having my career and the respect back. It will be worth all of the risks, the pain and embarrassment, and the shame of the past several months. It has to be.'_

"Mission: success," Charlie interrupted his thoughts and latched onto his arm. "Lord, it'll be nice to be able to brush my hair again! I'll even brush yours out if you like, pookie. I'll buy us a couple of baths and…" She chattered on, excited at the prospect of hygiene, soft hair, and smooth skin. He stopped listening and steered them through the market. They paused to buy some fresh fruit (mangoes and bananas) for lunch, behaving like their previous fight had never happened.

* * *

A/N: Not the best, very filler, but it's building their relationship, aye? I dunno, I'm just spit balling. Anyways, I'll hopefully be posting again very soon. I've been working these past couple weeks, taking classes, dealing with a couple of icky infections and low potassium levels, and going to Warped Tour (I saw Jeffree Star! Amazing…). So… Yeah. That's pretty much it.

How are your lives, duckies?

I love James contemplation. It makes me so happy to go and play around in his head. (Le Sigh.) Things will pick up next time, I promise!!!

Hope you all had a great 4th of July!!

G.


	16. Gravity

Sorry for taking so long to update this! Here's why: I'm in my second year of college and am currently taking eighteen hours worth of classes; I _was_ working over twenty hours a week and my supervisor refused to work with my school schedule; I'm doing a play right now and have been at rehearsal until after midnight some nights. I've had no time to breathe, much less write anything. But, random bursts of insomnia and catching the flu paid off and I now have this chapter written. YAY!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own James or Jack or Jamaica. It's a sad day.

* * *

_**Chapter Sixteen: Gravity**_

"You hold me without touch  
You keep me without chains  
I never wanted anything so much  
Than to drown in your love and not feel your rain…" – Sara Bareilles, "Gravity."

* * *

The first couple of nights, James would come back to the room in varying states of inebriation. He growled and snarled about the trouble with women, life, the navy, women and, of course, women. Sometimes he'd merely ramble on something whimsical, completely calm. Once, Charlie thought she'd walked in on him after a cry. He always vomited. It happened without fail. So, Charlie rubbed his back, moving her hand in calming circles. She wiped his face with a damp cloth. She stroked his hair 'til he fell asleep.

She felt rather like a mother – a disconcerting notion, considering her ever growing feelings for him. On a positive note, James seemed even more trusting of her. It wasn't an overt change nor a conscious decision; it was completely natural, the product of his subconscious.

Charlie reflected on all of this as she lay awake beside him. He hadn't touched a drop of alcohol today and she was ridiculously proud of him. He'd almost ordered rum at dinner but, with a glance in her direction, he decided to have water instead. She had to bodily restrain herself from flying into his lap and kissing him silly.

The ribbon holding his hair back (she'd bought him a lovely dark blue ribbon on a whim) had come undone and Charlie couldn't resist running her fingers through his now-clean chestnut hair. It felt so silky between her fingers… She wouldn't mind staying like this forever.

That was impossible, however. Their ship was leaving at noon in two days. A couple of weeks into the voyage and they'd go their separate ways. Any future meetings were in the hands of God. Or the sea.

She sighed heavily and her fingers stopped their movement. James popped one eye open. "What's the matter?" (Translation: Why'd you stop?)

"Nothing." She sighed again.

"That's not nothing. Tell me, Charlotte." (Translation: Get a move on with the scalp massage, ho.)

Her fingers started their massage again. "I'm just thinking about the future. I don't really want to leave here and now, you know? It's stupid, I'm aware. So… never mind."

"It's not foolish to wish to stay in a moment where you're happy. After the hurricane, I wished to go back to moments when I was truly blissful, however few they may have been. We're human; this is one of those intrinsically human idiosyncrasies."

She lightly scratched the nape of his neck, eliciting a long, low groan. She blushed at the sound and the images it brought to mind… (Very _nice_ images.) She shrugged and said, "I suppose" mostly to get her dirty mind back to the conversation at hand.

He popped that eye back open and surveyed her features a moment. "Your sunburn is healing nicely. You still look a bit pink in the cheeks though."

Charlie blushed even redder and was rendered speechless for once.

James smirked at her and closed his eyes again. "Where on God's green earth did you learn to do this?"

"My mom used to do it for me when I was sick or stressed or exhausted. It always calmed me down. I used to do it for her or my friends… one of my ex-boyfriends… You know, just to spread the love."

"You could make a fortune doing this," he sighed contentedly.

It was amazing to see him this relaxed. His shoulders weren't tense and the muscles on his back occasionally rippled (especially when she hit a sweet-spot on his head). He even had a small smile on his lips. Charlie committed him, in that moment, to memory. She loved seeing him like this.

"What is a 'boyfriend'?" he asked, seemingly out of the blue.

"A lover. It's a term we use in my time for a female's – or, in some cases, a male's - significant other before engagement, during the whole courting-phase. We call that part 'dating.'"

"Ah. How many of these… boyfriends have you had?"

"Let's see… Jonathan, Jake, Mark and Bryan. Four. Oh! And Austin, back in the second grade. He said I was pretty and we decided to hold hands. Then I found him holding hands with another girl, so I broke up with him. Jonathan was my high school boyfriend – that was an ugly ending. Jake and I dated through college, Mark for six months two years ago and Bryan for two last autumn."

"And I recall you saying something about being… intimate with a man before?"

Charlie squirmed a little, seriously hoping that he'd abandon this line of questioning. She didn't want him to think she was a whore. She knew she wasn't, but people's ideologies on certain things now were a lot different from the ideologies of the future. When he didn't drop the conversation she sighed and said, "Yes. Jake was the first of my boyfriends." She blushed even harder than before and prayed his opinion of her wouldn't change.

"Ah." James was shocked; he knew her time was different and that intimacies between people weren't a big deal, but to hear her admit being with three different men was hard to come to terms with. He felt a writhing in his stomach and his heart clenched a little. Out of surprise, of course.

That was it? 'Ah'? She knew it. He was pissed. After a long moment had passed, she said, "Don't think badly of me, please. It's something quite normal for my time. Actually, it's almost abnormal that I started hav- … Being intimate at nineteen; most girls I knew or went to school with started doing it around fifteen. Others still started even earlier. I'm _not_ a slut, so don't even get that notion into your head."

Silence and then… "Ah."

She sighed again, heart sinking to her stomach. Charlie stopped scratching his scalp, blew out the candle and said, "Goodnight, James."

* * *

Charlie was already gone by the time James even thought of waking up. He glanced around the empty room and deflated a bit. He'd had a marvelous dream about a certain blonde… As he was scrubbing his teeth, he remembered their revealing conversation from just hours before. He'd hoped to fully explain himself in some semblance of privacy, but it seemed that wouldn't be the case.

At least he knew the reason for her absence. It had been bizarre waking up without her lithe body curled against him, or with his arm tossed around her waist as she reread a letter from Calypso or Davy Jones.

James hoped she wasn't too peeved with him or his reaction to the news of her romantic affairs. He wanted a chance to explain himself, and Lord above knew how stubborn the woman could be.

He joined her at the table they'd claimed as theirs the first night in town. The previously flirtatious maid now merely paled a bowl of oatmeal (with raisins, cinnamon and sugar in it) before him and left to her other duties. Charlotte nodded in greeting but said nothing. James knew she had difficulties with speech right after waking up and he fully intended to exploit it.

"Good morning," he said softly.

She grunted. Perfect.

"I wish to apologize for my less-than-admirable response last night. If I offended you, believe that it truly wasn't my intent. I was merely shocked that a lady such as yourself had been with so many men. Not that you're a harlot – Oh bloody hell…" he groaned miserably, waiting for her to lash out.

Charlie started snickering and it escalated into full-blown giggles. James couldn't believe what he was hearing. What was so damn amusing about his bumbled apology? He glared indignantly.

"I've – never seen you – be so… awkward!" she managed to get out around her laughter. "And it's funny because – you're… you're… J-James Norrington!" She buried her head in her arms on the table top, shoulders shaking with mirth.

James smiled ruefully. Maybe he hadn't ruined their blossoming friendship after all.

* * *

He was alone in the room studying the heart, attempting (and failing) to logically comprehend how it was still beating and Jones very much alive without it in his chest. He knew it was magic, but his logical tacticians mind refuted that explanation.

He carefully shifted it in his hands and began wondering about Jack's recounting of Jones' character (as told to him by Charlie). Jones was a… _being_ very much in love with the sea and a woman (who, according to Charlotte, possessed the same characteristics as the sea). That was commonly known. This woman's… rejection? Abandonment? Faithlessness? Maybe all three drove the man to madness. Thus, the (literal and figurative) heartlessness.

James and Jones had that in common. Not being sans heart, of course, but the betrayal by a loved one. They'd both felt love's harsh sting. They'd both abandoned their duties out of heartache. They'd both loved and lost.

Maybe he and the giant squid-man had more in common than he'd originally thought. James hoped he didn't lose his humanity like Jones had. He was also hoping for a chance at redemption… and maybe a chance to love again.

* * *

"Hey, Sunshine, guess what?" Charlie chirped, flopping beside him on the bed. The inn had more rooms available, but neither even thought about moving to a separate room.

"The sky is green, the Earth is hexagonal, fish can fly and birds can swim. Am I anywhere close to the mark?" His eyes twinkled at her.

She laughed and pulled his shirt playfully so he was lying parallel to her. "No… I just found out the date."

"Yes, July fourteenth."

"Yeah. Tonight at midnight – if time moves the same speed here as… y'know – the sixth Harry Potter movie comes out."

"…Alright, I give up. What is a 'movie' and who is Harry Potter?"

She gasped and rose to her knees. "He's the savior of the wizarding world! I can't believe… I mean, you don't – How? Why? – Oh… right. Damn it! Now I'm even sadder!" She flopped back onto her stomach, looking ready to cry.

James panicked. He really was no good with crying females. Or emotional females. Or females at large. He blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. "Why don't you explain it to me?"

She looked at him, momentarily stunned. "You sure? It's a long story."

He arched an eyebrow as if to say 'we have plenty of time.' She swooned a little, making him smirk.

"Okay, here goes…"

He relaxed as she told the tale full of magic and adventure, proud to have averted any hysterics due to her time traveling issue.

* * *

James found Charlie helping clean the main room of the inn. She was sweeping – well, he assumed that that's how it had all started. Now, she was doing some ballet solo with the broom while the other workers watched. James leaned against the doorframe as she slid into the splits, holding the broom at the crux of her legs to hoist herself back up.

She finished moments later, slightly breathless to a round of applause, mostly from the women. The men watched her voraciously, thinking of the wonders of bedding a dancer. James only knew this because the thought flitted through his own mind before he banished it. He found himself glowering at the other males, swearing that if one of them made a move toward her…

Charlie spotted him and made a beeline in his direction. "Hey, Sunshine. Sorry about that. I accidentally let it slip that I'm a dancer – "

"What ballet was that from?" he interrupted.

"Cinderella, why?"

"That bit with the broom and the splits was a touch… provocative." He looked at her and then at the other men meaningfully.

She laughed. "Trust me, I'm not interested. Besides, I'm sure you'd – Never mind. Is everything ready for our departure?"

James wondered what she had been planning to say and wondered if she was just flushed from exertion or from something else. "Yes. We need to be at the docks by one bell after dawn."

"Ugh. Okay. Is the captain still grouchy?"

"Of course," he grinned.

"Ugh."

"Charlotte?"

"Yeah?"

"You dance beautifully."

She blushed a bright red. "Thank you, Sunshine."

He grinned in triumph.

* * *

The morning of their departure dawned. The light filtering through the grimy window was weak and watery at best. And James was in the middle of a rather lovely dream of a wife, child and admiralty when the woman in his arms started trying to escape. He held on tight.

"You need to let go," she growled, annoyed at having to wake up with the sun. Now that she was up and moving, he knew it would be impossible to go back to sleep.

James released his vice-like grip around her middle. "If I must."

"Thanks, Sunshine." She got up to wash her face and teeth. "Why are we leaving so early? Explain this to me again."

"Because this is the only ship going to Port Royal. We need to be on it."

"And we can't stay here forever because…?"

"I have to get my life back – please spare me the 'psychoanalysis', as you call it – and you need to let your pirate friends know you're alright. Besides, eventually one of these Spaniards is going to have a problem with two Englishmen living off of their 'earnings' or some such nonsense. We have to leave now," he stated logically, moving into a sitting position.

"Have I told you lately that it's sexy when you put on your Commodore face?" She grinned at him.

"…Thank you…" James shifted uncomfortably. Was she actually doing this? He'd never had a woman – a _lady – _talk to him in such a manner. Well, he had, but never just to flirt. He was starting to like it quite a bit.

"Oh, honey. You're welcome. C'mon. Let's go get some breakfast." She grabbed his wrists and pulled him out of bed. She hesitated for a moment, barely three inches from touching his body with hers. She came to some conclusion and quickly, softly, pecked him on the lips. "I'll meet you downstairs." Charlie hurriedly gathered her belongings – including the letters – and rushed out the door.

James blinked in surprise and the door was shut behind her. He blinked again and began to dress. A lazy smile worked its way over his lips. Yes, he most certainly was growing fond of a forward, blonde non-pirate woman.

* * *

Okay, it's short I know and rather disjointed as far as vignettes go, but hey! It's done and out there for the world to see! Not gonna lie, I rather like it.

Anyway, I am truly sorry for being MIA for so many months. Please forgive me.

I hope someone is still reading this. If you are, I'll love you forever!

G.


	17. Heaven Help My Heart

I'm so sorry for this delay in updating. I did a show – my first real straight play (I basically played a ho. Yay) – and then school got really intense, there's been more personal drama (I'm avoiding the entire situation as best I can), and then finals. But!! That's all over now, and I'm break for a month so hopefully I'll be chugging these out as quick as I can. Thank you for your patience!

* * *

"I love him too much,  
Suddenly my life, my whole existence,

Turning around a word, a smile, a touch.  
One of these days and it won't be long –

He'll know more about me than he should;  
All my dreams will be understood,  
No surprise, nothing more to learn from the look in my eyes.  
Don't you know that time is not my friend,

I'll fight it to the end  
Hoping to keep the best of moments when the passion starts…

Heaven help my heart." – "Heaven Help My Heart", "Chess: The Musical"

* * *

_Chapter Seventeen:_ Heaven Help My Heart

They'd boarded the ship a week ago, and Charlie was just now getting her sea legs (and sea stomach) back. She had absolutely nothing to do either. The crew was antsy having a woman aboard and downright terrified with a woman in pants and her glowering companion. They feared she'd bring bad luck to everything she touched – or breathed on – so they wouldn't even let her cook.

To put it mildly, she was about ready to pull her hair out just because she was going mad from sheer boredom.

In an attempt to counteract this ennui, she'd taken to tailing James around. He was the only one who talked to her and vice versa. That and she would've stalked him anyway, if only to piss him off. Anyhow, they ate meals together and quickly created a game out of embarrassing the other more than they previously had been. Of course, this was also an excuse for the two to flirt and tease. (The crewmen secretly took some delight out of this game and made some bets as to who would win.)

One Example of their Game:

James was tying off a line, his hands moving quickly, having never forgotten all the different knots, and Charlie stood by watching him work through hooded eyes. When she knew he was looking, she arched her back, pushing her breasts forward. Her posture straightened and she had a gleam in her eyes from knowing James had been ogling, she licked her lips and said, "Oh, James, I just _love_ your hands and what you do with them." And then she kissed him firmly before she just walked away.

He had… reacted quite strongly to her little performance and his cheeks were burning. Lord he loved it when she lowered her voice like that and swayed those hips just so… That's it. He had a special place in Hell just waiting for him. He knew it.

And old, leather-faced sailor chortled, "Ye might wan' take care o' that sit'ation, boy," with a significant downward glance.

James looked and cursed before rushing off to calm himself by thinking of his deceased great-aunt Bertha. Naturally his thoughts wound up straying to their game, and how she always seemed to come out on top. Why? Because she had – certain attributes (that she knew he had a weakness for) and she used them shamelessly. James did what he could, but he couldn't exactly go chasseing around like she did. He wasn't sure how much more of their teasing, "accidentally" brushing against the other, and stealing of kisses he could take before he snapped. Not to say he didn't enjoy their interactions and some of what came from sharing a cabin… However, he was in dire need of more than just kissing and the occasional groping.

Finally, one night, two days away from the island of the voodoo lady, he made up his mind that she wasn't going to leave him in such a state anymore. James strode into the cabin and locked the door with a 'click' and came up behind her as she was finger-scrubbing her teeth, grabbing her hips and spinning her around.

Charlie squeaked in surprise. "James, thank God! For a second, I thought that – "

He covered her mouth with his, forcefully silencing her. She was stunned for a moment, sighed into his mouth and responded fervently. He eased his tongue into her mouth and then back out many times as less-than-subtle foreshadowing. James started kissing his way down to the hollow of her throat where he bit and licked and blew to make his mark on her while his hands grasped at her waist and rear end.

"James, where the hell did this - ?"

"Quiet. Not a word."

"Aye, aye, Captain," she breathed, pulling his mouth back up to hers. Teeth clashed and tongues battled. His hands now worked their way under her shirt and then northwards as hers tangled in his hair. When he hit her bra, he stopped everything in his confusion.

"Shit," she muttered, yanking the shirt over her head. "Hook's in back." James stared at the black silk for a minute, praising its inventor, before getting back to business.

Clothes flew, people panted and sweated and landed painfully on the bed. They didn't let any of that stop them though.

* * *

A brief interlude into Charlie's thoughts at the start of their sea voyage:

She realized time was running short for them. Her time of having James all to herself – or even nearby – was coming to a screeching halt. She tried to keep her emotions in check and the banter normal, but it always escalated into something sexual. She'd steal kisses and he'd nip her lip or pinch her bottom, and the interaction was driving them both crazy with desire.

Soon, he was the initiating the kisses – in private. She tried to do the same to spare him ridicule and embarrassment; it didn't always work. Things just seemed to slip out of her mouth at the worst times – and carrying those kisses into something more. However, they hadn't slept together nor done anything more than cop a feel. James would always stop before clothing came off or skin touched.

Charlie needed more – needed _him_… She prayed he'd love her or come to love her as she loved him.

Yeah, she'd finally admitted her feelings to herself. She wouldn't say anything to him about it though. Not unless he said it first or managed to pry it out. Until then, she'd take what she could, keep praying, and do what she had to do to survive.

End of interlude.

* * *

They lay entangled in each other, Charlie pulled snuggly into him. His hand skimmed over her side and back, occasionally playing with her breast as she absently playing with his sparse chest hair, staring out into space.

Neither knew what to say without ruining the magic or tranquility of the moment. And without tipping the now-delicate balance. That, and they didn't trust themselves to speak without causing embarrassment.

The silence reigned on and finally James grew impatient with it. He was squirming guiltily on the inside for not giving her a chance to refuse his attentions – as enjoyable as their interlude had been – and he felt like he'd practically forced her into doing what they had. "Charlotte, I apologize for being so untoward – "

"Oh, shut up," she said, flicking his flat nipple lightly. "That was the best sex I've ever had, so don't go ruining it with apologies." She grinned up at him, fondness tingeing her tone.

"But I acted a scoundrel. I am obligated to apologize – at the very least – for taking advantage."

"Okay, 1: We're both consenting adults. I could have said 'no' at any point. 2: Had I said the word, you'd have stopped. 3: If you don't stop apologizing, I _can_ and _will_ use my powers for evil and get you horny again and we'll do it again. Besides, scoundrels who go by the name of James Norrington are pretty damn sexy." She kissed him sweetly.

"You make an excellent case." He smiled, relaxing. "However, these evil powers of your need to be tested and I happen to be a willing subject…"

"Is that a subtle hint?" she laughed, trailing her hand down towards his hips, nails gently scratching.

"There was nothing subtle about it, love." He grinned rakishly.

"Well, in that case…"

And things got X-Rated again.

* * *

The spent the next day and night in a sort of honeymoon haze, unwilling to let the reality of their circumstances in. It was the morning of Charlie's imminent departure when the crap hit the fan.

The pair was avoiding getting dressed and facing the day when a thought occurred to James. "We have to get married. Now."

"What? Why?" she laughed.

"You could be with child." She laughed again. "I'm very serious, Charlotte. I'm dressing and fetching the captain immediately, and then you shan't leave my sight. No sailing the high seas, no pirates, and _no_ Jack Sparrow," he said as he pulled his breeches on.

Realization had dawned during his little speech. "Oh my God, you're serious."

"Of course I am," he snarked. "No potential child of mine is going to be born out of wedlock." He began tucking his shirt in.

"James, love, I'm not going to marry you. Not like this."

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course you are." Now the boots were being pulled on.

"Babe, I think you're still hung up on Lizzie. I'm pretty certain that you are, and I shouldn't have to let this happen knowing that. I refuse to marry a man who still has feelings for a woman I happen to be friends with."

"We are getting married for that child and I won't take no for an answer."

"Do you love me?"

"What?" He paused, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

"Do you love me?" Charlie repeated slowly.

James opened and closed his mouth several times, not knowing what to say. He had strong feelings for her, but love? He'd felt love's harsh sting before and he was unwilling to even chance it again without being two hundred percent sure of the other person's emotional involvement.

"That's a 'no.' I'm not pregnant and I'm not going to marry someone who doesn't love me too." She quickly dressed, faster than any other woman he'd ever seen, and ran out of the room (almost in tears), leaving him shell-shocked and alone.

James replayed the entire episode in his mind, wondering where he'd gone wrong with _this_ proposal – granted, he knew it lacked in romance but it was the right thing to do – and why she'd reacted so violently. He just wanted to do the right thing by her and their possible-baby. Why did the damn woman refuse to see that? It must be some female-from-the-future quirk.

He tied his hair back and walked up on deck, blinking in the harsh sunlight when her parting words finally struck him. Charlie loved him? James couldn't believe it, and he fully intended to get to the bottom of things. He'd be on the rowboat to take her to land and he'd make sure she couldn't escape his questions. Until it came time for casting off, James was going hunting.

* * *

The damn woman was an expert at avoidance. As soon as he found her and blinked, she'd be gone again, which probably meant she'd realized her slip up and was probably ready to swim to the island if it meant she didn't have to face him. And, damn it all, he'd probably jump in after her. To get his answers, of course.

Three hours of this later and he still hadn't cornered her. How on earth did she manage to hide away so effectively on a ship, of all things? However, it was time for her to leave and the same leathery sailor from two days before was to be rowing her ashore. The woman wasn't on deck yet. He had a quick word with the captain and rushed over to the longboat.

"Sailor, I've just spoken to the Captain. I need to go to the island with you and the lady."

"Aye, so ye be gettin' off 'ere too, eh?"

"Not quite."

"The wee lass be givin' ye a run fer ye money, eh laddie? Ol' Kurt and me 'ave a bet on that she'll either be slappin' ye or weddin' ye beferr she be gone."

"That's simply marvelous," James muttered, clambering into the boat and sitting as far from the old coot as possible.

"The li'l' lady 'as ye well trained, laddie. Is she tha' good a romp?"

James closed his eyes and slowly counted to ten.

"Speak o' the devil an' 'e shall come," he muttered, crossing himself.

James cracked an eye open to find the blonde woman in question resignedly climbing into the boat and sitting beside him.

They were lowered to the water and the second the boat touched the wet stuff, James could feel Charlie tense up beside him. He fully expected her to reach out for him to calm her, but she just collapsed into herself. He noticed she had a death grip on the bench they were sharing.

"Charlotte," he began. "Do you truly lo-?"

"Don't ask questions you can't handle the answers to, James," she bit out.

"I believe I'm fully capable of handling whatever you may decide to throw at me, love," he shot back coolly.

She flinched at the endearment. "Can we just forget that whole conversation ever happened?"

"I think it's a little late for that. What did you mean you couldn't marry a man who doesn't love you back?" No answer. "Charlotte?" She refused to even look at him. Instead, she seemed to find the boards beneath her feet fascinating. "Do you love me, Charlotte?" he asked softly.

Charlie decided to look at the sky instead, anything to avoid his gaze, the curious eyes of the rower and the island steadily drawing closer. Her knuckles were white on the seat.

She wanted to spill the whole thing to him but she knew she wouldn't be able to handle his rejection of her feelings, even if it were some valiant attempt to save her from heartache. But she couldn't keep herself from hoping. If he said he loved her she'd willingly follow him anywhere. They never would've had sex if he didn't care for her in some intimate way. Such an act went against his entire nature without some driving sense of love and trust driving him – Yet another thing she adored about him.

"Charlie, love, just be honest with me. Please."

"C'mon, lass. I got some money ridin' on the pair of ye."

Charlie jerked violently and gave the man the oddest look. "Who _are_ you? No, don't answer. I don't want to know. James… I honestly don't want to talk about it. It's only going to strain our whole relationship and eventually we'll get tired of it and go our separate ways. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't. Charlotte, whatever you have to say will not change how I think of you." His eyes were so kind and understanding… If anyone could be empathetic in this situation, it was him.

"Fine," she sighed. "I give up. Yes, I love you. More than I care to admit. All of that flirting and bantering and our adventures made me fall head-over-heels for you. The end."

"Not the end. There's more to this story, I can tell."

"_Why_ do you know me so well, James?" Charlie whined.

"Charlotte…"

"Okay, okay… I didn't want to tell you because I don't think you love me back. I think you're still hung up on Lizzie Swann. I think that you're too focused on this career thing and it's too dangerous in Port Royal to go there, possibly pregnant and newlywed, only to become pawns. That's what I think about this entire mess." She felt more vulnerable than ever before in her life.

James took a handful of her curls and pulled her mouth to his in a quick, passionate kiss and then cradled the back of her neck. "I may not love you, but I might someday. And I am certainly not 'hung up on' Elizabeth anymore, though I shall always think of her fondly. I think I could honestly love you. Truly, I do."

Charlie swallowed the lump in her throat and forced her tears away. She hated that he could make her feel this way. She hated that he had the power to make her feel weak and vulnerable with a glance or a word. Mostly, she hated that she gave him that power along with her heart without putting up a fight. "Make sure you get back to me when you're absolutely sure about your feelings for me. The ball's in your court, James."

He pulled her into his arms and held on to her tightly. She returned the embrace and buried her head in the crook of his neck.

The rest of the trip silent but for the ocean. The sailor knew the watery way to Tia Dalma's hut, so, avoiding water snakes and hanging vines, they slowly made their way there in the dim light. At the steps to the small, elevated hut, the lovers wished each other Godspeed and shared a final kiss before parting ways.

Charlie watched as the men rowed away, James looking back until they couldn't see each other anymore.

* * *

A/N: And that's the end of this chapter! Bittersweet, I know. Just go with it for now. Things'll get better and I finally have an ending picked out. Most of you will probably hate me until the epilogue goes up. Get over it. Did anyone else notice that this chapter was also full of "That's what she said" moments?

Anyway, again, I'm so sorry for the long period of waiting. I haven't forgotten about this, I've just been crazy busy/ stressed out.

I less than three you all!

G.


	18. Dream On

Just a quick note (the long one's at the end): "Chile" is not pronounced like the country. It's "child" without the 'd'. Southerners from the Deep South, Cajuns in particular, and anybody who speaks Creole will most likely say it that way.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen:**** Dream On**

"Every time that I look in the mirror  
All these lines on my face getting clearer  
The past is gone  
It went by, like dusk to dawn  
Isn't that the way  
Everybody's got their dues in life to pay …" – Aerosmith, "Dream On"

* * *

Charlie walked into the ramshackle hut slowly, wishing James had made a very different decision. She wished he'd tell the sailor to turn around and take him back to her so they could walk in holding hands. But, of course, that didn't happen. It was nice to dream, though. With all the wishful thinking she was doing, she'd forgotten that a voodoo lady lived here and that she should knock politely. She didn't.

When she stepped into the tiny shack, no one seemed to notice. Charlie was sure the voodoo woman knew, but no one even twitched in her direction – besides Ragetti, but he doesn't count; he was too twitchy already. Gibbs, Will, Cotton, Marty, Lizzie, the Ragtag Duo, a slightly familiar feathered hat, and a ferociously beautiful black woman huddled over the rickety table in the middle of the room, looking at something intently. She did another mental tally and asked:

"Where's Jack? I thought he, of all people, would be in the middle of all the plotting and scheming." Nine heads and seven guns snapped in her direction. Charlie then recognized the owner of the hat. "Barbossa? I'm so confused right now. No Jack and one Barbossa – are you the evil… wait, good twin?"

"Charlie!" Lizzie rushed to the older woman and threw her arms around her friend. "We thought you and James had – where's James?"

"Not now, Lizzie. I'll tell you in private." She sent her friend a Look. "Where's Jack? Where's the _Pearl_? What's home skillet doing back from the dead? And Miss Voodoo Lady, I'm so sorry for rudely barging in here without knocking. Please, forgive me. I don't want any bad juju."

The islander woman with the black tribal markings eyed Charlie up and down before smirking and leading her to a stool. "All is well, chile," she said. "You 'ave a good, but strange, energy about ye. Come, sit. Dey tell de tale o' Jack Sparrow's end."

"His _what_?" Charlie yelped, bucking out of her seat. "Oh no. No, no, no, no, no… This is a nightmare…" She felt like someone had dropped a huge block of ice into her stomach. The voodoo priestess pushed the blonde back down, gently, and shoved a cup of… something warm and spicy smelling into her hands.

"Drink, chile. De tonic make ye bettah."

"Yes ma'am." She drank obediently as Gibbs told the tale of Jack and the Kraken. The tonic warmed her and chased some of the dread away. Some, not all. Charlie looked up in time to see Lizzie and Will doing their best to avoid the other and their gaze. Weird. The couple shifted uncomfortably every thirty seconds or so. Something else to talk about later. Gibbs finished the story somberly. He didn't get excited at all – if anything, he became even glummer – or say anything silly about back hair or rum. Pintel didn't even try to take over the recounting of the story. Things were really that bad.

After a few moments of a heavy silence, she jerked her thumb at Barbossa and said, "Okay, so what's this guy doing here, in the land of the living?"

The creepy pirate merely smiled at her apparent dislike of him.

"I find his body and 'ave been working to bring de soul back." The priestess ignored Charlie's incredulous, "He actually _has_ one?" - "He be recoverin' for t'ree weeks now. He gon' find de maps dat can lead de living to de land of de dead. We find Jack Sparrow dere and bring 'im 'ome."

Confused, Charlie just nodded. Something else to talk about later. "So he's a zombie and is going to help us save his mortal enemy. Makes perfect sense. Not to be rude, ma'am, but what's your name?"

The dark woman smiled, showing her stained and blackened teeth. "You call me Tia Dalma, eh, pet?"

"Okay," Charlie smiled. '_Pet? Wtf? Just smile, girl. Don't talk, smile. No biting off of heads today. Not now._'

She watched Lizzie and Will do an awkward, non-touching, get-out-my-way dance by the stairs and sighed. Ragetti was mesmerized by a bottle of human eyeballs. Cotton was stroking his parrot. Marty sharpened his knife while eying Barbossa suspiciously. Barbossa stroked the monkey and sneered at the midget. Pintel and Gibbs were back to glaring at each other from across the tiny, cluttered room, and Tia Dalma watched Charlie with an eerie grin and unreadable eyes.

Things had definitely gotten weirder.

* * *

Okay, so… WOOO! Back to writing. I'm so, so sorry. I've had a hellish year at school (too much drama for me to handle, so inspiration for everything died and I feel like a zombie sucked my brain out through a bendy straw. No joke), have been crazy busy getting ready to transfer to SFASU (YES! DREAM SCHOOL!), doing another show, dealing with friend/ guy problems, dealt with some heartbreak – Life has been a soap opera. Ick. Oh, and now I'm addicted to Glee. And that's the short version of it all. Ain't it fantastic?

Anyway, I seriously hope there are still people out there who are reading this. I know this is short, but consider it a transition back into writing. I need to feel the characters out again.

Please, don't leave me. ILY!

G.


	19. This Time

Hey! I finally have a few days off from musical, so I'm using them to your benefit. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. MUAH!

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: This Time**

"It goes by so fast  
Can't get it back  
There ain't no time  
Like this time..." – "This Time", by Carrie Underwood

* * *

Planning immediately began in regards to getting to Singapore, the place Barbossa said held the key to getting Jack back. Sadly, they no choice but to trust him. The escape plan (the escape from voodoo island, that is) was to sneak on board a merchant ship while it docked in a village three miles away, commandeer it, and leave the crew to the islanders. Charlie had a problem with that, but any crewman willing to risk turning pirate mercifully got to stay. She had a feeling Tia Dalma had something to do with that particular decision.

The pirates and their new additions would need supplies to make it across to Africa (they were going that route because they'd rather deal with the EIC than deadly storms, despite having a voodoo priestess aboard, and there would be more ships on the trade route to mooch off), so they'd stock up in Tortuga (for the contraband goods) and Port Royal. The ship was due to dock there soon for trade anyway, and they may as well use someone else's hard earned money to fund this journey.

Port Royal was their first stop. Gibbs and one of the new recruits would sell the cargo while Ragetti and Charlie were elected to buy supplies in town, as they'd be the least recognizable, especially once Charlie was made to look like a teenage boy and Ragetti was given a shirt that buttoned all the way up. He was none too happy about that, but didn't complain when he saw Charlie had her chest bound. Ragetti licked his lips, leered a little at what normally would have been exposed skin and went topside quickly.

She glared after him and winced when she breathed in. Her chest was bound flat as a twelve-year-old boy's, her hair was tightly pulled back and wrapped in black cloth, and her face had dust and dirt all over it. It was disgusting and somewhat painful, and she was more than happy to inflict pain on someone else at this point. The only thing that wasn't an issue was the floppy felt hat shoved on top of her head.

Gibbs and the sailor were topside already, watching the twitchy one-eyed man warily. Well, the new guy was. Gibbs was too used to him to care. Everyone else recognizable or conspicuous was to remain below deck until it was time to cast off in the morning.

Hopefully, with luck, this would go smoothly and they'd be gone by morning.

* * *

James Norrington was not a cruel man. Ambitious, yes, but not cruel. He obeyed the law (with the exception of several months), he was a gentleman, did as his superiors ordered and captured and punished those loyal to no crown or recognized legal doctrine. He was admittedly ambitious. Ambition is what had gotten him to the rank of Commodore at such a young age (in naval terms). The dark side of ambition is what had lost it. Ambition is why he bartered with Beckett for his post back. It's why he handed over the heart upon the renewal of his commission and a promotion. It's why he didn't go with Charlie on another madcap voyage. Maybe his need for order, for legal authority and power was why he lost Elizabeth, his first chance at domestic bliss, and his ambition (and, if he were completely honest with himself, his fear) was why he let go of Charlie.

James Norrington is not the kind of man capable of being happy in a disorderly environment in which he is disrespected, useless and powerless – like a pirate ship. Being seen was weak unnerved him. Being disrespected gave him a rancid taste in his mouth. Being looked over for someone bold, lawless and overly-romanticized frightened the dickens out of him. All three of these things had already occurred once. He refused to have such scenarios repeat, especially when another woman he… esteemed was involved. If the third were to occur, he did not want to see it.

Granted, she'd been there through his worst and still had feelings for him (he refused to be more specific than that for fear of jinxing it and losing another to a pirate).

He sat staring at the brandy decanter while ruminating. Now, the par for the past months would be to get blazingly drunk to avoid such serious thoughts. No longer could he do that. He was a naval officer again, an admiral. He could not continue in that vein and be a worthwhile leader – or as much of a leader as Beckett's leash allowed. A drink would be heavenly, but weakness would no longer be tolerated in any exploitable capacity.

James thought about having the temptation removed from his office, but the power-hungry short man wouldn't even blink before knowing and taking advantage. No. It would stay as a silent reminder.

He couldn't help but smirk at his silent one-up on Beckett. If only he knew what Charlie would say. He had a feeling she'd be proud of him. He also had a feeling that words wouldn't be involved.

* * *

Charlie and Ragetti hurried from one shop to the next, ordering, haggling (left to Charlie while Ragetti stared creepily with his wooden eye) and repeating. Most people were irked at such orders with less than a day to fill them, but dealt with the promise of a bonus. They also collected enough fresh food (bread, cheese and apples, shocker) for the night's meal and for breakfast in the morning. They managed with no naval run-ins, something to boast about in such a town as Port Royal.

The pair were heading back to the docks when a familiar bewigged man in uniform and his short bewigged companion rounded the corner not five feet from the pirates.

"Oh, crap!" Charlie yelped as she dropped her heavy sack of cheese. _'Oh no. Oh crap.'_

"Watch your tongue, sailor," barked James Norrington before he recognized the "boy" standing in front of him. "Charlo – Charlie?"

Ragetti groaned quietly.

"You know this foul-mouthed boy?" the short man demanded, lip curling disdainfully as he eyed the pair up and down.

"Yes, Lord Beckett." James winced so only Charlie could see, and begged her with his eyes not to do anything stupid.

Beckett looked at James impatiently. He wanted to leave and get on with his business, but was slightly curious over James knowing someone who spoke crudely in public. Anything for possible leverage.

"Uh…We was in the navy together. I was 'is cabin boy, sir. Turned merchant now, sir. With the _HMS Clarke_ now. We be stockin' up and 'eadin' t' Africa and the Orient for trade next, sir," Charlie said, knowing James would understand exactly what she wasn't saying. It wasn't hard to figure out if you knew all the circumstances. He could very well guess.

"Wonderful," Beckett sneered.

"When does the ship cast off, Daniels?" James asked. It felt odd referring to her that way, with no "Miss" before it and not being able to say Charlotte.

"Dawn, sir."

"Admiral Norrington, we have much left to discuss that is _not_ suited for the ears of cabin boys. Come." Beckett started off without even looking to see if James followed. He just assumed, as one would with a dog.

"Nice guy you're working for, Sunshine," Charlie muttered. Then, louder, she said, "Good to see ye, Admiral. Too bad it was so _short_ a run-in." She wanted Beckett to hear. "Take care, James." Her hazel eyes met his grey-blue ones, and he could see her refraining from touching him or saying something that she would regret, before she and the one-eyed fellow darted off for the docks.

James smiled at her antics and joined Beckett in a much improved mood.

Beckett noticed the upward swing in his puppet's mood and suddenly wished he hadn't just sent Mercer off to Singapore to deal with the pirate lord there. His compulsion to know everything about all of his puppets demanded he ferret out this "cabin boy" bit and why it should affect Norrington very soon. He had a few suspicions forming, but could get no further information without his loyal bloodhound.

* * *

Alright, that's the end of this chapter. It's short, yes, but the next will more than make up for it. Promise. And the next one should be soon. Sometime in these next couple weeks.

Hope you enjoyed!


	20. The Longer the Waiting

_A/N:_ So terribly sorry I haven't updated in eons. School, a horrible rollercoaster of a relationship, an awful roommate experience, almost dying (don't mess with spiders, kiddos) and being left with no immune system have taken over my life. Also, my brother (my smartass baby brother) is joining the Air Force. It's been rough, to say the least. AND I'm almost done with school and then it'll be wedding planning courses and then a long-term place of my own! I'm terribly excited. Life is finally happening!

Anyway, here's the long overdue Chapter Twenty, with a newfound rating of M for the ending. Enjoy!

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty: The Longer the Waiting**_

"_Oh, the longer the waiting, the sweeter the kiss__  
__It's better my darling, I promise you this__  
__The next time I hold you, I'm not letting go__  
__Will you wait for me darling, I need to know__Well, you know I'm a sailor and tomorrow we sail__  
__It's a hard way of living but I know it well__  
__And if I surrender my life to the sea__  
__You can marry another it's alright with me" _– Josh Turner, "The Longer the Waiting, the

Sweeter the Kiss"

* * *

She knew he wouldn't be able to stay away, not know that he knew she was here and where to find her. He wouldn't be able to let her leave without speaking candidly. She knew deep down in her soul. It went beyond her yearning and desire and driving _need_ to see – feel – hear – smell – _love _him. Light-years beyond. The knowing went past her heart, past the gut, past all reason and straight into the part of her that knew him and his thoughts and desires as well as she knew her own. It was the most terrifyingly heady thing she'd ever experienced. It was better than sex, and more frightening than being suspended over the deepest, most shark-infested bit of ocean by a fraying rope.

It was the most alive she had ever felt, and this one man had the power to make her heart soar or to completely destroy her. Charlie was scared stiff.

She realized this and still went to meet him. She sat on a crate, just outside the ring of light from a lantern a post away, a several yards down from the unlit ship. No need to potentially get caught and give her comrades away; in such a tension-filled, unstable atmosphere one never knows when one might be tailed.

She hears footsteps, brisk and careful, and the boards beneath him creaking. Charlie knows who it is. She's been on her perch for half an hour now, and many have come and gone in that time. She doesn't move, scarcely breathes. Her heart is racing in anticipation of his arrival. All she wants is to see his face and hear his voice and feel his arms around her as their lips meet. She wishes he would say "bugger it all" and come on this madcap venture with them, but realizes that he wouldn't be able to handle leaving order and esteem again. He needs it like she needs him.

That also terrifies her.

James almost passed her by in his eagerness? determination? to reach the ship he thought she'd be on. The sharp intake of her breath was the only thing that alerted him to her presence, and he stopped short before turning on his heel. "Who goes there? Identify yourself, sailor." The tension in his voice made her heart cry for him to smile again.

"Well, sir, Daniels is me name. I'm on orders from one of them high-falootin' fellows at the fort. Tall-ish, with a wig and hat, sexy accent. Any chance ye recognize the bloke?" James was kind enough to allow her to finish the joke before stepping into the shadows and kissing her senseless. She could feel him smiling against her lips, whether out of relief or amusement she wasn't yet sure. When they surfaced for air, she asked, "Were you followed?"

"Beckett tried, but his lapdogs are rather hopeless without Mercer around to lead the pack. You must be careful in Singapore; he departed for the pirate lord's den there not a fortnight ago. He'll have spies in every port and his own nose on the blood trail. His aim there probably isn't much off of yours. Please use every precaution and come back to me in one piece."

Charlie cinched her arms tightly about his middle, burying her nose in his chest and inhaling his scent – a combination of soap, wool, and his own musk, the most comforting thing she could never have imagined. "I will; the others shall also be duly warned. I hate asking this… well, no, I honestly don't… anyway, do you know what Beckett's plans are? Any information at all would come in super handy right about now. Right now, all we know is that we must bring Jack back and rally the pirate lords so the next step can be decided on."

James sighed heavily. "I knew my loyalties would be tested in this private war…" His voice was soft but intense. "Beckett wishes to cleanse the world – particularly the sea – of anything outside of the ordered realm. Pirates, witches, whores and reckless drunkards fall under that heading. He believes in a spirit realm and in magic, ancient deities, and whatnot. Since he is not privy to that power, he claims any hapless victims or practitioners of it as his pets and lackeys, using blackmail and threats against loved ones. He wishes to capture all of the pirate lords to exterminate them and their crews in one fell swoop, while sweeping all of their supernatural possessions into his pocket. All this is in the hope of being able to use these tools to further his power-hungry political agenda."

The weight of this knowledge – the bit regarding the extermination of pirates was no shock, but the rest was a bit much to process all at once. It was no wonder the miniature dictator rushed to Port Royal once so many reports were turned in regarding the Isla de Muerta curse, many from ranked officers. Even the governor substantiated this claim. Supernatural happenings were simply running rife around the Caribbean, and with so many voodoo women escaping from (or even practicing in secrecy under) the slavery in the islands and the southern colonies (not a plethora, but enough to create an up-spike in magical happenings), it should have only been a matter of time before forces like Beckett were drawn to the area. The unusual characters had drawn Jack Sparrow – however much he may have pinned the reason on the climate – and the Jack Sparrows of the region had drawn the Davy Jones' and the Krakens. Charlie, for one, was no longer a believer in coincidence, and saw the connections.

"Marvelous work, Watson," she breathed, still processing the information. "Who would have guessed that such an anal-retentive little nut would believe in voodoo, hoodoo, and all that other Hogwarts-worthy stuff?"

"Darling, you know I don't understand your futuristic cultural references. Who is Watson, and why does he sound like a dog? And _hog warts_? That sounds utterly repulsive," James sneered in an effort to divert her attention on what was, quite possibly, their last night together for the foreseeable future.

"Dearest, he is a doctor in a wonderful series about an eccentric investigator by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle called _Sherlock Holmes_. Watson is Holmes' sidekick, the deputy to his sheriff, the first mate to his captain –"

He silenced her with a kiss. "Go pull a gown on and bring your breeches. You're staying with me tonight."

Charlie quirked a brow at him, "You know I enjoy you taking charge, but a 'please' would really help your case, Sunshine." James simply raised both of his eyebrows at her and stared. "…fine. I'll be back in a jiffy."

* * *

They trekked through the back alleys and shadowy corners of Port Royal, to quite an upstanding little part of town, full of two story brownstones and white Doric columns. Of course, under the assumption they were still being followed, James had constantly tugged Charlotte into doorways and kissed her senseless. She did the same, shoving him against walls and clinging to his shoulders as their tongues did battle.

Once they made it to his home, he led her around to the rear entrance near a small herb garden. Charlie released his hand and sniffed the rosemary-scented air appreciatively, as he searched for the spare key. "It's around here somewhere… not the decorative mushroom… or the orange pot…" she heard James mutter.

"Do you think it could be on top of the door frame, darling?" Charlotte suggested sweetly. She heard him patting down the wooden frame and humming with his success.

James herded her into the cozy kitchen area, playfully swatting her skirt-covered rump. "Do you want some tea or coffee, my dear? I'm sure there are some leftover cakes from supper, if you're hungry."

Charlie wrung her skirt, debating on hinting at her feelings for him. "Maybe later, after... I've decided that I would like to stay up all night with you, James, whether we're making love, or talking, or just quiet. I don't want to miss out on these last few hours with you."

He smiled slightly, taken aback by the vulnerability in her voice and her sudden lack of eye contact. "Charlotte, that… sounds like a lovely idea. Come, allow me to show you the bedroom." James held out his hand to her, heart skipping a beat when her fingers entwined with his.

"Marvelous idea, Watson," she laughed.

The room was comfortable, masculine, and impeccably tidied. Everything was in its proper place, not a single wrinkle or speck of dust could be found and, best of all, it smelled like him. Warm, crisp, and slightly salty, like a sea breeze. It was all dark woods and clean lines, white washed walls and a red duvet, large windows and view of the sea. It was him.

"I never took you for a fan of red, Sunshine."

He looked up at her from his perch on the bed, where he was taking off his shoes. "Hm? Oh, yes, it reminds me of my father's rooms back in England. I never bothered to change it, since I am – was – rarely here." He watched her as he began removing his stockings and vest, laying them over a chair to be laundered later. She seemed on edge. "Charlotte, are you alright?"

"Yes, Sunshine. I'm fine." She stared out one of the large windows at the water for a moment longer. "James… before anything happens and we get naked, I need to know… how you feel about me," she said, shyly, haltingly. Nothing like the brash, confident woman he'd come to know. "I know that we've talked about this before and it didn't go so well, but there is a very good chance that somewhere between here and wherever in Davy Jones' Locker Jack is being kept, I won't make it back. I can't bear to die and not know. That seems like a low blow, but it's the truth."

His heart hammered painfully in his chest at her request. He cared deeply for the blonde before him, certainly, but was it love? And if so, how could he knowingly open himself up to such potential pain and rejection after Elizabeth and with Beckett hounding his every step? How could he allow himself to love her when, as she said, she probably wouldn't make it back? "Charlotte… you must understand that I care immensely for you," James began slowly. "You and I – we're good together and good for each other, in so many ways. I feel very strongly for you, but – as someone who knows my past and my romantic misfortunes – you must know that allowing such emotions to run rampant is a damned stupid decision right now. Beckett is breathing down everyone's necks, looking for a _whiff_ of piracy or otherworldliness, while preparing for a war. A war I'm to be caught up in, and you as well, should you run off to save Sparrow. We are pawns in a game that is larger than us, and our feelings make us susceptible to being hurt beyond simple physical ills."

She kept her eyes on his face, reading every expression that flickered there, keeping her own impassive mask on. "Alright, James, you win. All you've told me is that you are afraid to label your feelings, afraid to allow yourself the hope of this all working out for the best, and afraid to let yourself love me. It's easy to do that right now, with the political climate and the level of our intimacy. You've got all the perks of love and marriage without the mess those things bring. I understand; in fact, I brought this on myself and should have expected you to think like this." Tears began to well in her eyes, but didn't fall, and a definite quiver entered her voice. "I don't like it and think you're being a damn fool, but I understand your reasoning. Now, I hope _you_ understand why I can't stay." She moved towards him, still sitting on the edge of his mattress, and cupped his face in her long, callused hands. "Good luck, James. Maybe we'll see each other on the other side of this mess. I love you." With a final kiss, soft as the flutter of a butterfly's wings, Charlotte Daniels was gone.

James Norrington was alone. Again. He really did not like the feeling, nor did he wish to become accustomed to it.

'_Damn it all if the woman didn't know how to make an exit._' James growled to himself, berating his guardedness and cowardice. '_Some fearless leader I am… can't even say three simple words to the woman who helped me back to life. Bugger it all…'_

He yanked his stockings, shoes, and overcoat back on and thundered out of his home again, completely disregarding subtlety and any of Beckett's spies that might be lingering, in pursuit of a wildly curling mass of blonde hair. He only hoped to find her and yank the woman back to his home before she reached the ship.

Luckily, at a tavern a few blocks away from the piers, it seemed that a rather raucous group of men with questionable hygienic habits had accosted just such a woman, and were drunkenly slurring out a song about a sweetheart. No matter which way she moved to get past them, they staggered to block her. It was obvious that she was growing agitated with the entire evening.

James leisurely strolled up to the small scene, hands burrowed in his pockets, and feeling confident about winning his woman back. He nodded to the singers as they continued their out of tune warbling, and came to a halt just over Charlotte's left shoulder. She didn't seem to notice the latest addition and simply continued to steam.

"Miss Daniels, may I suggest – " He was not expecting the fist that connected with his jaw.

"Oh, God, James are you alri – you know what? No, I will not apologize. You definitely deserved that," she fumed, crossing her arms defensively across her chest. James crouched and worked out the pain in his jaw. The men who'd been singing stopped abruptly at the display before them before bursting out with guffaws of laughter. She turned on them next. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, nightingales. I'd happily punch you out too, if I had a good enough reason."

It did nothing to deter their merriment.

"I was simply going to escort you back to my home, profess my love for you, and insist that you stay on in Port Royal as my fiancée and you try to deck me! Really, Charlotte, this is unheard of," he proclaimed, rising to see her reaction.

Her jaw was dropped to the ground, eyes as round as saucers, and paler than a ghost. "You're – you're _joking_, right? After that whole, long speech about how it's simply not a good idea, and so on and so forth, you're telling me that – in the span of ten minutes – you did a completely one-eighty and jumped on the "let's get married" bandwagon? What the hell?! You must be drunk, or delirious with fever, or something."

"Or something," he chuckled, gathering her under his arm and leading her off. She dazedly allowed it. "Come, love, let's fetch your things from the ship and explain why you shan't go any further than this port."

Charlie stopped dead. "Whoa there, Cap'n. You haven't asked me properly yet, and I haven't said 'yes' yet, either. Besides, whatever shall the townies say? You're just back and reinstated, that's not enough time for you to be engaged yet, much less courting someone. Don't want to cause a stink with your boss, either."

He began pulling her along again. "Then we'll go to Governor Swann, ask that he take you in as his ward, once again, and I shall call constantly and I'll court you until you drop, then we'll marry. Does this meet your approval?" She found his confidently arched eyebrow to be incredibly appealing.

"Fine. You are planning on _asking_ me to marry you, yes? I don't know if I like you just assuming that it's going to happen. Hold up. Did you say that you were going to 'profess love to me'?" She halted again. "Or did I just imagine that?"

"No, you imagined nothing." He instigated the forward movement again. "I'm quite mad about you, you see, darling. I was simply too afraid – as you so kindly pointed out – to do much of anything about it. But, once you left me sitting there like a fool, I decided that it was high time to face the music, stop being unhappy alone, and chase after you. And here we are."

"And here we are," she softly echoed. "James… you really love me?"

This time, he was the one to stop. "Charlotte," he clasped her hands, planting a soft kiss on the palm of each. "I really love you."

"You damn stubborn man, I love you too. And it took you long enough to come to grips with that." She kissed him, square on the mouth, damn any onlookers and their opinions.

"Let's collect your things, leave my report on Beckett, and get back home, alright?"

"You're the man with the plan; where you lead, I will follow." Her tone was a fine combination of loving and sardonic, causing James to chuckle.

"We both know that isn't true."

* * *

After some tearful explanations and goodbyes to Lizzie, Will, and Marty, Charlotte, with her small bundle of clothing, letters, lace and pearls in her arms, departed the ship crewed by the closest thing she had to a family in this time, and James stayed by her side through the entire, sad ordeal.

He led her to his bedroom for the second time that night and helped her to remove the simple cotton dress she'd been wearing, kissing any skin that was exposed by his ministrations. It was a relief to discover she'd thrown any corsets in her possession overboard. Once she was down to her shift, she turned and began removing his jacket, slowly, almost reverently, kissing the pulse points in his neck and gently suckling his earlobe, causing a sharp, shuddering inhalation. Next, she started working the ties keeping his shirt closed, kissing her way down the skin that she revealed, before pulling the linen up and over his head. Her mouth quickly found one of his nipples and licked, sucked, and gently bit the sensitive flesh.

James hissed in pleasure and hurriedly toed off his shoes, pulling Charlotte's warm, pliant body flush with his own, his mouth attacking that spot on her neck that caused her to produce the most wonderful breathy moans he longed to hear. He cupped the back of her head as it fell back, allowing him complete access to her throat and chest. His other hand wandered down from her waist to cup one taut globe of her rump, pushing her hips to his, creating the most delicious friction between them. He let out a delighted hiss at the intimate contact as their mouths found each other again, their lips and tongues doing a slow, heady dance as old as time itself.

Charlotte's nimble fingers tried to undo the laces on his breeches before he stopped her. "Darling, we have time for all that. Let's just enjoy, shall we?"

All she could do was nod as he maneuvered her onto the large bed and collapsed beside her, fingers tracing the low neckline of her shift, leaving goose bumps in their wake. His eyes stayed on hers while he moved his hand lower, cupping one of her breasts and gently kneading the soft flesh. He flicked her nipple and felt the small peak pebble beneath his hands, lowering his mouth to enclose it through the thin cotton, eyes still trained on her face. She closed hers in pleasure, humming low in her throat, hands running through his hair. He did the same to the other breast, both peaks puckering from the wet fabric and the slight chill in the air.

In a move James wasn't expecting, Charlotte rolled so that she was straddling his hips and tore off the garment covering her body, and captured his lips in a deep kiss. She had one hand on the side of his face and the other teasing his nipples, similar to his treatment of hers. All the while, her hips were undulating against his, creating a spectacular friction between their most intimate parts in a tame display of what was to come.

"James…" she breathed between kisses to his neck, still grinding her hips against him. "I love you…."

He groaned, the capacity for words nearly beyond his grasp, as he hurriedly finished unlacing his breeches. They were carelessly discarded, along with his stockings and knickers, while he flipped their positions and left open-mouthed kisses down her neck, over the dusky tips of each breast, down her flat stomach and then, avoiding that most sensitive spot, he traced his way from each ankle to the dangerous top of each thigh.

"And I love you, Charlotte," he gasped just before sheathing himself fully in the writhing woman beneath him.

They made love long into the night, each time as slow and unselfish as two people in love can be.

* * *

A/N: So… yeah, long overdue and hopefully the little lemon (my first!) there at the end made it worth your time. How's her staying for a twist even I didn't really see coming? I mean, come on, it's just mean to separate two people in love like that and then think about killing one of them off. It's just rude.

Anyway, I hope someone somewhere is still reading this. I went back and reread everything, and good Lord how I hope my style and sense of humor have matured a bit.

Please let me know if anyone's still out there; if not, I'm totally taking this down and starting from scratch in another genre.

Thanks for reading!


	21. Please Read!

A/N: So…. This is me, climbing out from under my rock to rejoin the writing community. Life has taken yet another path, and it looks like 2013 officially hates me. A bad break-up, awkward romantic situations, bad academic news, another hospital stay where nothing got fixed, and another year of classes (24 hours this semester. Yowza.) are abounding. It's been insane, to say the least. I hope you can forgive me for not writing! Inspiration got lost, and, honestly, at this juncture, I'm not entirely sure where this was meant to go (the prize paid for _not writing stuff down_).

I'm not posting a chapter, but am letting you know that one will be up before August 26. I need to figure out what I want to have happen next (I've had the ending lined up since day one), and you know what that means? COLOR-CODED STICKY NOTE TIME!

Yes, I am nuts.

Thank you all for your patience, and please, please, I beg of you, stay with me! We will get to the end, there will be closure, it's just the stuff between where we are now and where we will be that has to be worked out.

Many thanks and lots of love!

_G._


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